The Winter of General Hammond's Heart
by Lucretia Skelington
Summary: Wedded bliss for George Hammond...eventually.Chapter 14 and 15 up. GHOC pairing. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

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The Winter of Hammond's Heart

Chapter 1

Major General George Sinclair Hammond chased the wrinkled, green peas around the plate with his fork then, with a disgusted growl, gave up. They weren't worth it. The whole meal wasn't worth it, except for the fact that he'd missed lunch then walked straight into a crisis with a returning SG team. Sorting out that mess had taken all afternoon leaving barely enough time to change from the traditional Friday BDUs into his blues for the dinner. The coffee and toast he'd grabbed at 0520 had been long gone.

Never known for exceptional food, the Club didn't surprise anyone tonight. Deciding the baked chicken, which must have seen the better part of the evening in a warming pan, was best left unfinished, Hammond sat back in his seat with his iced tea and wondered what there was to eat at home.

The frosty emptiness of his freezer and the bareness of his cabinets and refrigerator came to mind- he really needed to squeeze in a trip to the commissary- and decided that the Taco Heaven drive-thru window was a much better bet. He would worry about the diet Dr. Fraser had him on some other day.

Around the head table, others chatted while doggedly working at finishing their own Gala Chicken. There was perhaps an hour and a quarter or half yet to go with awards, speaker, and appropriate remarks from the ranking brass- himself. If he didn't hang around afterwards, he could make it home by 2130 hours.

And do what?

What he usually did- watch the news, throw in a load of laundry, polish his shoes, read a couple of briefs, review and sign performance reports, or work on the papers due in D.C. next week? Grimacing, Hammond tossed his napkin onto the table. Is this what his life had become... work followed by a dull evening of more work only to be repeated when he woke up at 0430?

He'd always worked hard, putting in long hours, but had his life been this dreary before? What did he use to do? He thought for a long moment, recollecting. There were long walks with Maggie around the neighborhood, discussing what was happening in the news or with their girls. When he had time, they played cards while listening to music or sometimes just enjoyed each other's company in silence.

Before his wife's death five years ago, he read books about history, people, and the occasional mystery, not just reports and briefs. He tried to remember the last book he read, and could not.

Then, as now, his free time was limited. Still, he found time to draw, sketching nature, landscapes, and, often, Maggie. He tried different media such as watercolors and oils, but found he preferred pencil above them all. Shortly after her funeral, he put away the sketchbooks, pencils, and charcoals, not for any particular reason except he simply did not have the desire to create anymore.

Hammond set the glass of tea on the table and looked down at the wedding ring on his left hand; taking it off had never occurred to him. He twisted the wide, gold band slowly and sighed. Perhaps it was time.

The woman next to him leaned close. She spoke just loud enough for only him to hear, her voice filled with concern. "George, is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Helen," he replied, looking up quickly. He gave her a reassuring smile. "Just thinking, that's all."

Her frown disappeared and she placed her hand on his arm. "Bob and I would like you to come over for dinner. It's been much too long since we got together. Do you think you can make it Friday, two weeks from now?"

Hammond nodded. Helen and General Bob Woodman were good friends and he always enjoyed their company. Maggie and Helen had played mahjong together; he and Bob had known each since duty together in Japan many years past. "I'd like that very much. I'll do my best to get away on time."

"Good. I'll plan something special," she replied, eyes twinkling. She patted his arm. "About 7:30 will be fine."

She turned away to hear something her husband was saying, leaving him alone again with his thoughts. He considered. What was it he was feeling of late? Was it renewed sorrow for the loss of Maggie? No, Hammond didn't think it was that. There would always be the feeling of loss, but the pain had lessened over the years and he remembered the good times while moving on with his life.

Was he bored? It could hardly be that. At least sixteen of his all-too-short twenty-four hour days was consumed by his position. Commander of the Stargate Program, whose purpose was to contact alien civilizations in order to gather new technology for Earth's fight against the Goa'uld, was hardly a boring position. If nothing else, SG-1 made certain his job was never dull. True, there was paperwork, but there had always been, and always would be, paperwork. He could handle it- that's what shredders were for, he thought wryly.

Dessert was placed before them, ladies first. It was green- something lime. Hammond disliked anything lime except, of course, margaritas. Seeing how it was not, unfortunately, a margarita, he passed on dessert and excused himself, then went outside for some air.

Nodding to the polite greetings of those he passed, but not stopping to talk, he made his way through the crowd to stand by himself at the farther end of the club portico. He knew no one would disturb him- only another general or a colonel might, and only if that colonel was in his command or knew him well.

The air was chilly; winter was still making itself known, but it felt good after the stuffy room. Again, he wished he could leave. The only dinners he attended now were those required. A captain from SGC would be receiving the junior officer of the year award tonight- not an easy accomplishment when a good portion of your nomination sheet is classified. His people worked hard and he supported them, so he was pleased for his troop. Still...

The hour will go quickly, he told himself, and you've given so many speeches you can say the appropriate words in your sleep. It will be over soon enough and you can go home to your papers and reports and shoe polish

He leaned against a porch column and gazed out over the landscaped grounds. Why was he so...restless? Was there something missing? Was it time for him to ask for a new command?

A new command was not what he needed. The SG program was vital to America's, as well as the worlds, security. It was his baby and he would see it through- he decided that the first time he saw those ugly snakes in his gate room. He would make sure the fight against the Goa'uld pressed forward and did not fail. There was no command existing that he would consider above what he held now.

In addition, the only person he would feel comfortable giving up the command to, if it ever came to it, was his second, Colonel Jack O'Neil. Hammond snorted. Getting Jack promoted was a whole different battle.

As for retirement, he wasn't ready to do that- not just yet. To be honest, work was what kept him going and filled the long hours of his days since losing Maggie. He once considered writing a book, but even if he were to, there needed to be something to look forward to afterwards. At the moment, there was absolutely nothing in sight.

Through the haze of lights from the base and surrounding city, Hammond could see faint, glimmering stars in the heavens- other worlds, some not very friendly to the Taur'i, the inhabitants of Earth. He headed the first line, the _only_ line of defense, the Earth had against the Goa'uld. No, his command isn't the problem.

What was it, then?

_You are fifty-six years old, a dirt-poor kid from Hardscrabble, West Texas wearing two stars on your shoulder that you have put a hundred and ten percent effort into living up to, and have four beautiful girls- two daughters and two granddaughters from a loving twenty-seven year marriage._

_You crawled around the Vietnamese jungle under Red guns- was even their 'guest' for a spell and have the scars to prove it. _

_You chat with aliens over coffee and doughnuts and your name carries the reputation of a warrior on numerous alien worlds._

_You deal with situations and issue orders that would give most people nightmares for months, then go home and sleep like a log...most of the time. _

_You have stood on foreign soil where, to your eyes, Earth's Sol isn't even a fleck of light in the heavens. _

_You bear the full burden of secrets no other human knows- secrets so astonishing it would turn the planet upside down. _

_The fate of Earth and its allies rests squarely on your shoulders._

_All this, and you're restless?_

_George, old boy, suck it up._

Hammond grunted in derision at himself and stepped away from the column to head back to the stuffy room. Before going inside, he paused for one last look at the worlds glittering above. When he got home, he would pull out the box of drawing material and sketch for a while.

Maybe that would help.

Three hours later, Hammond stood at the kitchen sink washing black smudges from his hands. The case of pencils lay open on the oak table in the dining area with a half completed sketch of Tessa and Kayla on his drawing pad. He squirted another dollop of soap in his palm then rubbed them together. He stopped, looking at the gold ring glistening in the foam. For a long moment, he considered then gently pulled and twisted the band toward his knuckle. After another squirt of the lemon-scented soap, he had it off. It lay in his palm.

Putting the ring carefully aside, Hammond dried his hands and checked to make surethe kitchen was squared away before pickingthe ring up and flipping the light switch. He made his way to his bedroom, sat of the edge of the four-poster bed, and again looked at the ring cradled in his hand.

He remembered the day he and Maggie had married, just three months before he shipped out to 'Nam. Two years later, nine months after they met in Hawaii for R and R leave, he sat stunned and bursting with pride at the Red Cross message informing him that he was a father. He recalled how, once more when deployed from his family, his grinning CO's handing him another message telling him of his second daughter's birth.

His throat tighten and the gold ring became blurred as he recalled Maggie, wasted from the chemotherapy, insisting he remove the matching band from her thin finger lest it fall off and she lose it. He hung it around her neck on a gold chain so it would be near her heart and she smiled.

He squeezed the band tightly in his fist, head bowed. After a moment, he took a deep breath and walked to the carved wooden box on the top of the dresser where he kept only those items dearest to him- locks of his daughters' hair, his first set of lieutenant's bars and nametag, love letters Maggie had sent him throughout their marriage, and her wedding ring. With one last caress, he placed his ring beside the smaller band...then gently closed the lid.

The following Monday morning, Hammond tossed his briefcase, heavy with papers and gear, onto the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel. Reaching for the seat belt, he wondered if he should be throwing the new comm unit around like that and decided if the $15,000 device inside the padded, bulletproof case couldn't take a bounce on a leather seat, he didn't want it.

The Tahoe came to life with the turn of a key and soft music filled the interior. Hammond turned the volume down a tad, paused then touched another button to display the choice of CDs loaded in the system. Light jazz? No, not in the mood. Wiggly Wally or Singing With Squirrel and Friends? He skipped past those; they belonged to granddaughters Tessa and Kayla. How about a little bit of Texas with Asleep at the Wheel? Not at 0537, he decided. Johannes Sebastian Bach it was, then.

He backed the SUV down the dark drive and onto the street. As he pulled slowly away, he could see the light on in the kitchen. Maggie had always left a light on so that he never had to enter a dark house no matter what time of the evening or, more often, the early a.m. he finally came home. He continued to leave the small lamp burning after she died as it still gave him comfort, even after years of being alone.

Often, a driver picked him up in the staff car, particularly when he had meetings requiring him to travel between the local military bases. This evening, however, he planned to stop by a toy store to purchase birthday gifts for Kayla. He did his homework, consulting members of his staff with pictures of young girls on their desks about what a six-year old would like. This year he was ready for the long aisle of toys in pink boxes.

He was away for much of his own children's early years. In all honesty, between TDYs, deployments, and remote tours, he had not been home as much as he wanted when they were older, too. He tried to stay close to them now without being too intrusive in their lives, but he found himself fighting his schedule for time with them. That troubled him for his daughters and granddaughters were the joy of his life.

The girls were wonderful, including him in all family celebrations and activities, letting him know he was always wanted and welcome. He liked his son in law, Steven, a doctor. The boy seemed a bit daunted by having a Major General for his father-in-law, but he tried to put Steven at ease and Hammond thought they had a good relationship.

He had not spent much time with his family lately and would have little opportunity to in the coming weeks. The birthday party was Thursday night and he flew to D.C. Friday, just in time to ruin his weekend. He still had Sunday afternoon, unless his schedule changed; maybe he could take his granddaughters out for ice cream...if there were no crises calling him in to work.

Today there was the usual early briefing from each department head and SG team commanders, then meetings, a teleconference in the afternoon, a long-term planning session with his commanders following that, then the daily evening briefing. The coming two days would find him in yet another two teleconferences- one with the Joint Chiefs, the other with Manning and Personnel who could not understand why SGC kept requesting such specifically and diversely qualified people. A meeting with the Cheyenne Mountain CO concerning the planned electrical upgrades, which involved shutting down power and using back-up generators, would follow, midweek. There was more of the same in the days after that, too.

Hammond frequently yearned to don his fatigues, grab his bag (with the extra rounds of ammo he learned from experience to always pack), and step through the gate with one of his teams, leaving behind all the meetings and papers and headaches. But, he knew it wasn't his place. His position was behind the desk, making decisions, clearing the way, guiding them in their work, warding off the brunt of outside interference, and taking the blame for all that occurred.

His heart, however, was in the field with his troops.

Traffic was light, so he made good time, pulling into his reserved parking place just steps from the entrance a few minutes before 0620 hours. His thoughts returned to the vague unease he felt of late. Maybe he should take a couple of days off while the place is powered down. Jack was always trying to rope someone into going fishing. Then again, maybe fishing with Jack wasn't such a good idea. Everyone avoided his offers like the plague. There must be a reason and Hammond just as soon preferred not find out what it was.

Surprised, Hammond saw his Execby the entrance, talking with the officer supervising the security desk. Lt Col Beale was earlier than usual. Hammond needed half an hour in his office alone to go over email and make a few calls; he would send the colonel out on a couple of errands- that would keep his aide busy for a while.

There was staff constantly around him and Hammond was rarely alone at work. He'd learned to deal with the constant attention over the years, but when he needed time by himself, his private quarters were available just down the hall from the command center and he owed no one an explanation for closing his office door. Even so, there was always someone outside waiting for orders.

He was convinced that he had the finest staff around; everyone in his command was first-rate and he cared very deeply about his people, at least, as much as he dared allow himself to. This meant he was close to no one; he could not be.

The cold reality of life was that one day, George Hammond might have to send them to their death...as he'd done others.

Hammond switched off the motor and left the soothing strains of Bach's "Air on the G-String" and most, but not all, of his restlessness behind.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dismissed." Hammond was nearly out of the conference room before the SG commanders and staff had risen to their feet. Time was not a luxury. He turned abruptly in the doorway.

"Major Carter, can you meet me here in fifteen minutes with those figures?"

"Yes, sir," the young woman replied dutifully, even though the general had already disappeared and was out of earshot.

Dr. Daniel Jackson looked thoughtfully at the door. "Do you think he ever slows down- you know... doesn't rush from one place to another?"

"You try getting him to slow down. He won't listen to me," quipped Dr. Janet Frasier. As the Stargate Command Medical Officer, she handled all concerns medical or psychological, whether human or alien. Looking after General Hammond's health seemed the trickiest of all. Even Teal'C, the former Goaul'd with his resident larval symbiot in his belly, did not give her as much trouble as Hammond. It took her three months to convince him that he had to get a knee replacement or quit running; she'd yet to get him eating regularly and healthily. The general looked tired this morning; then again, he often did. Nothing, however, seemed to slow him down.

She stopped gathering the medical reports that lay on the table before her and looked pointed at the archaeologist drumming his pencil absently on his knee and the commander of SG1 who was slouched in the chair across the table. "He's older, but has more energy than both of you put together."

"Well, I don't know about that," Colonel Jack O'Neil drawled lazily as he slid a little further down in the padded chair.

The SGC medical officer tapped the sheaf of papers on the table then walked to the door. "I, for one, have work to do."

"So do I," Carter added, following the doctor. The looks they gave to the remaining SG1 members said that they should find something to do, too.

"You know, Jack, if General Hammond comes back and finds you...," Daniel began slowly, gesturing at the officer sprawled in the chair opposite him, "he might, uh, get the idea you have lots of spare time and put you on that stack of folders in his office."

"Indeed, that would be an efficient use of time and resources," agreed Teal'C.

O'Neill sat up quickly and looked from Daniel to Teal'C then made a face. "Well, I, uh, just remembered something I gotta do, guys."

"So, you see, sir, even with standard displacement, PL3372 is not where we expected it to be."

"Just how far off is it, Major?" Hammond asked.

Carter brought up a new screen, then another close-in schematic. "Not far, astronomically speaking, sir, but in relation to the other planets in that system, PL3372 has shifted noticeably."

"I see." Hammond folded his arms and studied the screen. His education in the field of engineering helped him understand some of the physics involved in their work, but only a little at this level. That was why he was surrounded by experts. He considered for a moment. "Could it have something to do with the system's two suns- maybe one's becoming unstable?"

"Yes, sir...in a manner of speaking, sir," Carter replied tactfully. The general wasn't completely right; then again, he wasn't completely wrong, either.

"Doesn't bode well for the planet's inhabitants, does it?" he asked thoughtfully.

"No, sir." Carter waited. Although the inhabitants of PL3372 had not contributed any useful technology, they were a peaceful, pleasant people and she was concerned for their welfare. General Hammond was under no obligation to be, but she hoped he was, too.

He looked up from the screen to find the young woman watching him. "I think the situation bears further investigation, Major."

"Thank you, sir!" Carter couldn't help but smile.

Hammond grinned to himself. He had to be by the book sometimes, but he knew how and when to bend the rules. It never hurt to lend a hand.

"You can brief SG4 this afternoon."

Carter's smile faded a little. "Yes, sir."

This time, Hammond's grin touched the corner of his mouth. He stepped closer to the window high over the Gate Room.

"You may accompany them, if you wish, Major." He nodded at her relieved response as he scanned the room below him. Technicians were making minor repairs to the ramp to reinforce its railings and installing a new, heavier cable to its power source. All was quiet; it was a lull in the storm.

His gaze swept the banks of computers on the right side of the room, set up in preparation for a series of off-planet scanning missions that would commence in 48 hours, and came to rest on Dr. Jackson, who was gesturing at a screen, and a woman.

More accurately, he noticed the woman.

In profile, she was bending to get a closer look. Her dark hair was pulled back into a twisted braid of some sort and her jacket and pants draped nicely over her curves. Very nicely.

"I didn't know we'd brought on a new staff member," he said quietly, thinking aloud.

"Sir?" Carter followed his gaze, puzzled.

Hammond cleared his throat. "That is, I don't think I've met the woman talking with Dr. Jackson."

Turning to her left, giving Hammond clearer view of her face, the woman slipped off her glasses and laughed at a remark Jackson made. She was pretty. Very.

He spoke again, slowly. "Major, do you know who she is?"

Carter frowned. She was certain the woman could not be an visitor or pose a danger. Authorization for admittance was only after a thorough background check and a bona fide need to be in the facility established. At least one armed security person accompanied the visitor, per the general's orders, once given clearance. There were three separate security checkpoints, including body scans, before anyone entered the command area itself, to prevent unauthorized entry. No guard stood at her side, therefore, the woman had to be on staff.

"Dr. Jackson did mention a linguist had been assigned to SGC- perhaps that's she," Carter offered.

The general continued to look out the partition, following the couple as they stepped nearer the gate. Sam waited, but he did not make further comment. She shifted from one foot to another. Hammond stared silently.

"Sir," she began hesitantly, "I need to know the time of our mission for the briefing this afternoon."

He turned to face her and she could have sworn he colored faintly. "Right...tomorrow morning, early. Check with the SG4 CO about a specific time they can be ready and put it on my evening brief. Dr. Jackson may go as well, if he wishes. That's all, Major."

"Thank you, sir. I'll tell Dr. Jackson, sir," she replied then left for the stairs leading to the Gate Room two levels below. Behind her, General Hammond asked an aide waiting nearby to request Col. O'Neil join him.

Hammond turned back to the window and the dark-haired woman. A linguist? He remembered Jackson saying sometime back he needed staff to catalog language data they had discovered so the catalog could be used to compare and decipher new languages. He vaguely recalled telling Jackson to pursue the request through Personnel. Apparently, the archaeologist had.

The woman and Jackson were at the bottom of the ramp now. Major Carter joined them and the two women shook hands. While he watched through the window, Hammond fielded a quick call, confirming details for his upcoming trip to D.C. He disliked the whole political game, but he could play it as well as any; he was a patient and resourceful man. Some said he was downright cunning. Being on a first name basis with the President helped, too.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Col. Jack O'Neil stood at what was his version of a respectful at-ease. At least he didn't have his hands stuck in his pockets, Hammond noted.

"Yes, Colonel," the general began, pulling his gaze away from the attraction of the floor below to his rumpled second-in-command. "I have authorized another visit to PL3372 by SG4 tomorrow."

"PL3372? Why? We didn't find anything there. Sir." O'Neil jammed his hands in his fatigue pockets oblivious o the fact that he'd just questioned his superior's decision.

"I feel it prudent we return," the general stated tersely, staringat the colonel.

"Uh, yes, sir," O'Neil replied. He tried to stand a bit straighter then winced as Hammond turned away to face the window. Jack O'Neil respected Gen. George Hammond more than he respected any other commander he'd served with, but military protocol was not his strong suit.

"Major Carter has noted a shift in the planet's orbit. She will be accompanying SG4, along with Dr. Jackson, most likely." The woman was talking to Carter; Jackson had left. "Seeing how half your team will be there, I thought you might wish to go as well...that is, unless you have other work that needs your attention."

Hammond looked over his shoulder at the O'Neil.

Four performance reports, two unfinished off-world briefings, and three pages of unread email came to O'Neil's mind.

"Uh... no, sir, nothing waiting. I'll go," O'Neil said quickly. Better to be out of the office than in it was his motto.

"Very well. The major is giving a briefing to SG4 this afternoon for a go tomorrow morning," Hammond said looking back to the window. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Yes, sir." O'Neil took a step away, hands still in his pockets, and sauntered toward the stairs.

The general watched as O'Neil disappeared down the stairs. Jack was a unique individual well suited for the unorthodox work SGC was did, so he overlooked what few COs would not. SGC team members worked in a high stress situation and everyone reacted to the pressure in a different ways.

Some adhered strictly by the book, gaining support from relying on laid-out plans to decide exactly what to do. If one of his troops, a commander, in particular, could not adjust to quickly changing scenarios and make decisions on their own, it could be dangerous. He watched for those and reassigned them elsewhere.

Others reacted by being foolhardy in their off time. He insisted on being the commander to on the scene when the first of his troops was arrested for drunkenness. The punishment had been swift and, he thought, just. The word went out that he would not tolerate such foolishness- period.

Some tested military boundaries to the limit, stretching the rules as far as possible. For the most part, he allowed his commanders to set the limits for their own groups- but only to a point. He knew the value of military discipline.

Colonel Jack O'Neil fell somewhere in between, or somewhere beyond, the extremes.

Hammond sighed. SGC needed O'Neil's extensive talents, but if he was ever going to convince the Joint Chiefs of Staff to give Jack a star, he was going to have to do some mighty fast talking.

Movement at the edge of the room caught his attention. Time to get back to the tasks at hand.

"Would you have Major Montez meet me in my office in five minutes?" he directed the waiting aide. There was a full morning's work ahead going over the SGC's seven billion dollar budget. It was something he didn't look forward to, but he didn't avoid it, either. Hammond was not one to shirk duty or a challenge.

He gave one last glance to the woman below and found her looking up, straight at him. She was not just pretty... she was beautiful.

She smiled.

Twenty-eight levels beneath the earth's surface, through nearly 3,500 feet of solid rock, General George Hammond felt sunshine flood the room.

Hammond nodded somberly in return then left.

She saw him standing at the window high above the huge room with its large, strangely marked ring. Had anyone asked what it was about him that had caught her attention, she would have been at a loss to answer. Still, there was something about him and Dr. Kathryn Freeman found herself lifting her gaze to where he stood several times. She could see glints of metal on his shoulders and people had come to him- Major Carter and others- so he must be someone of importance...but who?

The blonde officer was showing her a complicated graphic of the gate's interface when 'dialed-in'. Dr. Freeman shifted her most of her attention to the screen.

"...and this allows travel via the wormhole to another gate connected by the appropriate impulse," Carter explained.

"I see," Dr. Freeman replied slowly. She looked at the major and frowned apologetically. "Well, actually, I don't see. It all sounds rather unbelievable."

"You don't have to understand it- I'm not sure we really do. And please, call me 'Sam'," Carter answered. She liked the new linguist Daniel had found.

"All right, Sam, and please, call me Kathryn." She smiled and Sam leaned down to type in new commands to the computer. Kathryn looked up. The man was talking to a gray-haired soldier in fatigues and she could see him more clearly from where she stood now than before. He was a bit heavy-set and had little, if any, hair. When he turned back to face the window, she quickly looked away and blushed to find Sam watching her.

"Who is that man up there?" she asked as casually as possible.

Sam looked up. Jack O'Neil, standing slightly slouched, was talking with the general. His steel-gray hair, a shade longer than regulation, was ruffled and he listened with his head cocked to one side. He was a handsome man, Sam had to admit, and from the way many women looked at him, others agreed.

"That's Col. Jack O'Neil, the SG1 commanding officer and Stargate's second in command," she explained as she watched O'Neil walk away, to the stairs. His movements reminded her of a panther's graceful prowl.

"Col. O'Neil?" Kathryn asked. The man still faced away from the window.

Sam was surprised to see Kathryn watching General Hammond.

"Oh! Well, no, _this_ is Col. O'Neil," she explained, gesturing to her CO, as he entered the room from the circular stairwell. Kathryn's gaze stayed on the general. O'Neil motioned to her. Before joining him, Sam added, "_He's_ Major General George Hammond, the CO of the Stargate program."

"Oh...George Hammond," Kathryn repeated softly, not noticing Sam had left.

Above her, the man turned abruptly to the window and looked directly at her.

George Hammond.

She smiled, Hammond nodded, and Dr. Kathryn Freeman was very glad she had accepted the position of Librarian of Language Studies for the Stargate program.


	3. Chapter 3 Matchmaking

**A/N: Terribly sorry, but I forgot the disclaimer, so I'll stick it in now. I don't own anything to do with Stargate SG1 except several seasons on DVD. Geckko and Double Secret are making a pile of $$, since they do own it. This is a work of fiction for the pure enjoyment of it and to help me practice my writing skills.**

**Also, thanks for your comments and encouragement. It might be a little while before I get more chapters up, and I apologize.**

Chapter 3

Hammond was running late and although he preferred to change into civilian clothes before going to the Woodman's, there was not enough time. It had been a hectic day- a hectic week, for that matter. He remained in Washington for two extra days in order to meet with the President on Sunday then members of the Defense Committee Monday morning, not arriving back in Colorado Springs until late Monday night. The next three days saw both SG1 and SG5 teams come under attack off-planet, returning with injuries. Thankfully, there had been no fatalities and all would recover. Snatching an hour's sleep here and there when he could in his private quarters, he stayed at the facility arranging for what needed the pull of his rank to be done quickly and with no questions.

When one of his troops was injured, he felt responsible even though he knew it was a risk they all took in the military. He had seen his share of danger and had suffered from wounds inflicted in combat. Each time, he still found himself questioning the orders he'd given, running each decision through his mind. Could the injuries have been prevented? Had he misjudged? Second-guessing could be dangerous, he knew. He made his decisions based on all the knowledge, wisdom, and experience he possessed. It was enough- it had to be.

Often, during the night when sleep eluded him, he could not help but wonder how many more young men and women would die before they managed to incapacitate the Goa'uld? When will it all end? He prayed it was soon.

The infirmary was blessedly empty of patients now and all would be back to work by the end of next week. Even Dr. Daniel Jackson was up, moving under his own steam. Hammond was tempted to tie Dr. Jackson to a chair to keep him on Earth- the boy was forever getting hurt when let through the Gate.

With the crises over, he spent the day catching up on paperwork and calls. Turning off the alarm clock and sleeping late tomorrow morning will help him catch up on sleep, he decided. Admittedly, he was not as young as he used to be and it was getting harder to bounce back from forty-eight hour days that occurred all too often.

During the past two weeks, he glimpsed the pretty, dark-haired woman, here and there around the mountain complex, and learned her name was Dr. Kathryn Freeman, a linguist just as Major Carter suggested. He'd had no chance to welcome her to SGC, but she stayed on his mind. He would definitely make time to speak with her during the coming week.

Shrugging one shoulder, then another, he tried to ease the stiffness. He was tired and ready for the weekend and its relief from work, such as it was. There was a report due on the President's desk by Tuesday a.m. and it would take up most of either Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

Deciding what the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the President are told was his responsibility. He alone had access to all reports that came through SGC and he alone knew all the secrets. It was a heavy burden at times.

Tonight, though, he would forget about work for a while, he promised himself. A good meal, good company, and a couple of cold longnecks with Bob...just relax for an evening. He could do that.

He parked his SUV behind a Volvo station wagon in front of the Woodman's quarters then walked to the front door, the cold air reviving him somewhat. From the wonderful aroma, he could tell Helen had baked lasagna. She made great lasagna. He rang the doorbell and straightened his tie while he waited. The door opened and light spilled out onto the front steps.

"George, dear, come inside," Helen greeted him, taking his hand in hers, drawing him inside the warm foyer. He leaned down and gave her a peck on her cheek.

"You look lovely, Helen," he said, slipping off his blue jacket. He saw Bob approaching them and jerked his head toward him. "Why do you stay with that old coot?"

"Hey, George! Who you callin' an old coot?" Woodman boomed. "You're no spring chicken yourself, old man!"

"Bob!" Helen shot him a warning look and tilted her head toward the room off the entranceway.

"Oh, uh, well, come on in, George. Have a cold one?" Bob said, chastened. His wife told him she wanted George and their guest to hit it off, so he was to behave, as she put it. What he had to do with other people's first impressions, he had no idea.

"You bet. Thanks." He and Bob followed Helen into the family room, decorated with items collected from around the world. His own home, like most of those in the military, was the same. Several dozen pictures filled the walls showing Helen and Bob's legion of grandchildren.

Across the room, facing away from them, was a woman, in cream pants and an emerald sweater, looking at Helen's collection of miniature doodads. Before she turned around, he recognized her immediately. Dr. Freeman looked real good from behind, too. Hammond forgot about being tired.

"Kathryn, I'd like you meet George Hammond," Helen said smoothly. George had finally taken off his wedding band, she noticed- and just in time. "George, this is our dear friend Kathryn Freeman."

"It is a pleasure, Dr. Freeman," Hammond said sincerely, shaking her hand. He was right; she was beautiful with light, almost golden, brown eyes, and dark chestnut hair. She was of petite stature, about his shoulder in height. Never good at guessing ages since everyone looked young to him these days, he thought perhaps she was in her late 30s. He hoped she was no younger than that. Realizing he still held her hand, he let it go.

"Thank you, General. I'm pleased to meet you," she replied, trying not to be obvious about looking him over up close. His eyes were a grayish-blue, the type that changed with mood or surroundings, she thought. His shoulders and chest were broad, his arms thick. Although buzzed short and shot with gray, his hair still had a reddish tinge to it. In his mid-fifties, she estimated, he had a few extra pounds on him. Finding the scales suddenly showing five extra pounds when she turned forty a couple years ago made her understanding in that area.

Overall, General Hammond was more pleasantly good looking than she thought. Aware she was staring, Dr. Freeman felt her face warm in embarrassment and looked back to her host and hostess.

"Old George here is a long-time friend from way, way back," Bob offered, trying to be helpful. From the expression on Helen's face, he missed the mark.

"Oh, have the two of you met?" Helen asked quickly, wishing Bob would quit calling George 'old'. Really, what was a dozen years, or more, difference in age? Despite her husband's misgivings, there was nothing wrong with introducing two people who were simply made for each other.

George hadn't taken his eyes off Kathryn since the moment he stepped in their den. Hope began to bloom in Helen's matchmaking heart-he called her 'Dr. Freeman', so they must be acquainted; this was getting better by the minute. Bob rolled his eyes and she darted another warning his way.

Hammond wondered if Helen knew Dr. Freeman worked at the mountain before inviting them both to dinner. Looking quickly at Bob, who appeared suspiciously innocent, Hammond explained. "Dr. Freeman recently joined an office in my command, but I'm sorry to say I have not had the opportunity to welcome her. I do apologize.

Kathryn smiled. "I understand, General. Work has been rather...busy lately, hasn't it?"

"How wonderful that you two have already met," Helen said, delighted. This was going to be easier than she expected. Kathryn was a lovely woman who deserved a strong, mature husband after what she had been through. George certainly needed to get married again- his life was far too wrapped up in that secretive command of his.

"I'll get the beer," Bob said, glad for an excuse to leave. Messing with other people's love life was much more dangerous than the battlefield. Give him an M-16 and an enemy in forward of him any day, rather than his wife's meddling.

"Please, have a seat. Dinner is almost ready, but we have a few minutes yet," Helen offered. She motioned them toward the overstuffed sofa opposite the fireplace, where a cheerful fire burned. They sat, he at one end, she at the other. Bob returned and handed Hammond a frosted glass of Lonestar. Helen had warned him about serving beer in the bottle tonight; he didn't know what the fuss was all about. Beer was beer. Hammond nodded his thanks.

"I am sorry not to have welcomed you before now, Dr. Freeman. I hope you're finding your way about the facility and settling in without any problems," he said. That sweater looked nice on her- _really_ nice. He shifted in his seat.

"Yes, I am, thank you. Everyone has been very helpful," she answered. Helen told her she was inviting a friend to join them for dinner, but she had no idea it would be George Hammond. Air Force blue was definitely a good color on him.

She saw him occasionally, during the past two weeks, hurrying from one place to another with one or two people following behind. Dr. Jackson said he would introduce her when the general returned from his trip, but Hammond was delayed and then the team Dr. Jackson was on suffered injuries on another planet shortly thereafter. Dr. Freeman had to admit that the job had turned out to be quite different than she expected- she wasn't used to the researchers coming home injured.

"Good. Please don't hesitate to let me know if I can be of any assistance," he replied, regretting the words even as he spoke. It sounded as if they were in his office with his exec waiting to usher her out to make room for his next appointment. He took a sip of his beer.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, surprised at his business-like manner. Perhaps it was the uniform, or perhaps he had no interest in knowing an employee socially.

Hammond cringed inwardly at the 'sir'. _She is your subordinate and she is a lot younger than you are_, a small voice reminded him unnecessarily. Would it embarrass her if he asked her not to call him 'sir'? _Probably and it would be presumptuous, too_, the voice said.

"We met Kathryn when we were last stationed at the Pentagon," Helen said, changing the topic. Honestly! Couldn't the man leave work behind for one night? This might not be as easy as she first thought- George was sinking fast.

"You were a linguist there?" he asked, grateful for anything else to talk about other than her working for him. The word 'fraternization' popped into his head in big, glowing letters and he tried to ignore it.

"No, my husband was a liaison to the Pentagon at the time for the State Department," she answered.

"I see." Hammond hoped his disappointment didn't show in his voice. She was the only woman he'd looked at twice in five years, so of course she would have a husband. He glanced at her left hand but did not see a band. It didn't matter; he'd worn one until two weeks ago and been unmarried, so she could be married and not wear one.

"Is your husband assigned here?" he asked, wondering where her husband was. He took a long swallow of his drink.

"No, he was killed in a plane crash in North Africa four years ago," she said quietly. There was not as much sadness in her voice as there was something else, but Hammond couldn't tell just what.

"I'm sorry," he replied sincerely, knowing what it was like to lose someone close.

She inclined her head a fraction, accepting his sympathy. "After several years in the D.C. area, I wanted to live somewhere less busy...a place better for the boys."

"Plenty for them to do around here," Bob observed, "summer or winter. Lots of good hiking trails, aren't there, George?"

"Yes, there are. How old are your boys?" He could not say he was glad she was a widow, but he was pleased to be sitting near her with no one else between them.

"I have four, from age five to fifteen," she replied, relieved to be off the subject- she preferred not to talk about her late ex-husband. His death had been hard, but the two years before that had been harder.

"Children are so resilient. I know ours took moving in stride," Helen said. "Your girls seemed to handle it well, too, didn't they George?"

There. They had children in common to talk about. The lasagna was going to dry out and the salad get soggy if they sat here much longer, but Helen was determined George would smile at least once before she put food under his nose.

Hammond nearly held his breath hoping Dr. Freeman would not ask how old his girls were. Good grief, his youngest daughter was nearly twice the age of her oldest son. An awful thought crossed his mind: was he old enough to be her father?

Kathryn gave him a questioning look, curious about his family, but, she dared not ask.

Without having met him, she had discovered much about General Hammond in the two short weeks she had been at the mountain. Everyone respected him enormously, obeyed him unquestioningly, followed him willingly, and trusted him absolutely.

She had also learned that no one interrupted him, got in his way, walked in front of him, crossed him, or left him before being dismissed.

Moreover, no one ever asked personal questions of him or befriended him.

No one.

An awkward silence hung in over the room as everyone looked at him, waiting.

"Well, yes, they seemed to have come through it all OK," he managed. He quickly finished the beer.

Bob glanced at his wife and gave her his best 'I told you so' look. Old George was flat-out dying. Her 'you will say something helpful' look, however, was even better.

"I bet your boys would like going over to Vista," Bob said, thinking fast. He was very fond of Kathryn and George was one of his best friends. While he swore he would never play Cupid, he would do what he could just this once. Besides, if he didn't, he'd never hear the end of it from Helen. "There's an old mining museum and nature trail along the stream. You know the area, George. You've taken your granddaughters over there a couple of times, haven't you?"

Pleased with himself, Bob grinned. Grandchildren were always a good subject to talk about. Everybody loved hearing about his own eleven grandchildren.

"George has two gorgeous granddaughters," he explained, sitting back in his chair. Give old George an opening to talk about his grandgirls and the man didn't know when to shut up. "They're about your little Tommy's age- no, they're older that that- getting to be big girls. Tessa and Kayla are both in school now, right? They're probably closer in age to your Nicholas, Kathryn."

Bob shook his head and chuckled as he looked at his friend. "Makes you feel real old to see grandchildren shooting up, doesn't it, George?"

Hammond nodded and let his chin fall to his chest, closing his eyes briefly. Now she must think him to be absolutely ancient. He took a gulp of air and looked up; he had to say something. "Zoo's a good place, too."

"Thank you for your suggestions," Kathryn said, looking from one general to the other. She wondered why General Hammond suddenly appeared very tired. "I'm looking forward to seeing the area. I've never lived in the mountains before."

Her voice was slightly husky- caressing and very pleasing. _Forget it, Grandpa_, the voice said. _You're way too old_.

Hammond inhaled deeply. Seems he was destined to spend his Saturday nights polishing his shoes, after all. Being called on the carpet by the Joint Chiefs of Staff was less difficult than this- and he would know.

"Well, I've always found that a place is what you make of it," he said slowly, his Texas accent as thick as red clay after a rain. It became more evident when he was distracted...or stressed. The current situation easily qualified as both.

Kathryn gazed at him and smiled. He really did have the most gorgeous eyes, and that accent....oh, my!

"Isn't that true about everything, General?" she replied earnestly. Her smile widened, washing over Hammond like a hot, steamy shower.

For a long moment, Hammond could not speak. The hell if he was going to settle for being an old man! He grinned broadly in return. "Damned straight, Doctor!"

Helen stood. "Time to eat!"

An hour and a half later, Helen Woodman was feeling much better about the evening. George had loosened up a bit, showing the dry wit he was known for. There was, she felt certain, an attraction between the two of them. A little time and there would be sparks.

"Thank you both for an enjoyable dinner and evening," Kathryn said as she slipped her arms into the coat Bob held for her.

"You're welcome, my dear. We're so happy you decided to move here. Let's get together for lunch soon. I'll give you a call in the next couple of weeks," Helen replied. She was going to stay on top of this; George might need a kick to help him along.

"I'd best be going, too," Hammond said as he shrugged on his blue jacket. "Wonderful dinner, but then yours always are, Helen."

"You're welcome, George," she said, as he kissed her cheek. "Would you be a dear and walk Kathryn out to her car for us?"

"I'd be pleased to." George shook Bob's hand then squeezed the older man's shoulder. "Be sure to work on that backswing tomorrow, Bob."

"Well, I'd hate to beat you worse than last time."

Hammond laughed and lifted his hand goodbye. He and Dr. Freeman stepped outside then, after a last farewell from Helen, he heard the door shut behind them. The night was cold and his words appeared as puffs when he spoke.

"When will your boys get here?" he asked as they made their way slowly down the sidewalk.

"In another week, after the quarter ends. It was easier to let them stay for a few weeks with my sister and brother in law who live near us. My brother and his wife live in Pennsylvania and are spoiling Tommy- they don't have children yet and think it's a treat to have him." They reached her car, the Volvo, and stood by the driver's door. "I miss them, but it gives me a chance to get things settled first."

"If you need some time off, just let me know," he offered. He lowered his voice and leaned a fraction closer. "I have connections."

She laughed and gave him one of those smiles.

Hammond drew a deep breath and crossed his arms. He who hesitates is lost, he told himself. "Doctor, would you be-"

His cell phone trilled and Hammond's jaw tightened. Of all the rotten times to get a call. He flipped the phone open.

"Hammond," he said sharply. He listened for a moment then sighed. "Understood. Follow the set protocols and sit tight, son. I'm on my way."

"You have to go in?" she asked, concerned. Did he never get time off? She wondered what he had been about to ask.

"I'm afraid so." He considered asking again, but saw her rubbing her arms, shivering. He was keeping her standing out in the cool air. Not used to it, she was probably freezing. If she took sick, he was to blame. Meanwhile, there was an irate alien delegation standing in his Gate Room under armed guard, demanding to speak with him. Maybe some other time.

_A beautiful, young woman like her isn't interested in having dinner with you, anyway_, the voice sang knowingly.

"Well, good night, Dr. Freeman," he said, openingher car door.

"Thank you, and goodnight, General Hammond," she answered. He closed the door with a firm hand. Maybe they would run into each other again. He surely hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4 Stircrazy

Winter of Hammond's Heart Chapter 4

Despite the poor impression he was sure he'd made at Bob and Helen's house several weeks ago, Hammond still wondered if there was a snowball's chance in Texas Dr. Freeman would have dinner with him. Catching glimpses of her every now and then, not very often since her work kept her mainly in Dr. Jackson's area, several floor above the Command Center, he found he could not get her off his mind.

A week went by, then another, and yet another after the dinner, almost before he knew it. One crisis ran into the other, one meeting and trip flowed into the next, with the days and weeks blurring until one late afternoon he found himself with his head resting in his palms, elbows planted firmly on the desk before him.

He needed a break, he thought, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Somehow, some way, he had to get away from the reports, figures, and problems, even if only for one evening.

Dinner with Dr. Freeman sounded just right.

Hammond buzzed his aide. "Major, please ask Dr. Kathryn Freeman- she's in Dr. Jackson's section- to please come to my office this afternoon at her convenience." Calling her to his office might not be the most courteous way of doing this, but it would give them privacy, and it would not be as obvious to everyone. He was, infrequently in Dr. Jackson's labs, but never to hang out by one of the desks, asking a woman to dinner.

He smiled. The future was looking brighter already.

Less than twenty minutes later, there was a knock on his door. It was Dr. Freeman carrying a thick folder in one arm, her briefcase in the other.

"Come in, Dr. Freeman...good afternoon. Thank you for coming," Hammond said, quickly crossing the room to greet her. He gestured to a chair opposite his desk. She looked lovely in a suede-colored skirt and jacket. Her hair was up in one of those fancy braids and she wore a pair of dangly earrings; he wondered what her hair looked like down. As she moved past him, he caught a whiff of delicate perfume. He couldn't tell if it was something flowery or whatever else women's perfume was made of, if not flowers and seeds, but he liked it.

"Good afternoon, General." She sat, shapely legs crossed at the ankles, hand clasped in her lap; she looked at him, waiting.

He started to take his seat, then thought better of it and perched on the desk's corner, instead.

"So...how is everything?" he said, suddenly unsure of what to say. It'd been thirty-two years since he had asked a woman out on a date.

"Very well, sir. I'm sorry, but I didn't know what you wished to discuss, so I brought most of my summaries and outlines," she explained, reaching for the briefcase beside her chair.

"Oh, that wasn't necessary, Dr," Hammond said. She frowned and he quickly added, "that is, well...I can imagine how you thought..." Hammond swallowed and closed his eye for a second. When he opened them, he saw her looking at him, confused. Was it this difficult back then? Couldn't have been or he never would have gotten a date and gotten married. _Just ask about dinner_, he told himself.

"Dr. Freeman...there's something I wanted to ask."

"Yes, General?"

"Have you already made plans?"

Dr. Freeman reached down and laid a hand on the briefcase without taking her eyes off him; Hammond thought they almost had a wary look about them.

"Here, sir...in the briefcase I didn't need to bring."

"Uh, not those plans, Doctor. I'm afraid I'm not making myself clear," he said, fervently wishing he could start over. She cast a glance at the door and bit her lip. He reddened, embarrassed. Given a backhoe, he doubted he could dig his way out of this one. _Just say it!_, he thought. He took a breath. "Doctor, I was wondering if you would-"

Behind him, the phone buzzed.

The red phone.

In less than a heartbeat, he had it in hand. "Hammond....Good evening, Mr. President."

Dr. Freeman quietly picked up her briefcase and stood...

_"George, the Russians are kicking up a fuss, again. I need you here tonight."_

...and hurried out the door.

"I understand, sir," Hammond replied, watching her leave. Maybe another time.

_"Good! I hope I'm not messing up any plans you had going for the weekend."_

"No, sir, nothing at all."

_"Well, that's good. My people are already arranging your flight. See you in a few hours, George."_

"Yes, sir." Hearing a dialtone, Hammond let the phone drop into its cradle. Good thing he kept a bag packed in his quarters, he mused, not for the first time. Unexpected summons to Washington were just another part of the job.

He called his aides and issued orders before taking his briefcase from the cabinet and shutting down his laptop, mentally going over the papers he'd need to take. He crouched in front of his personal safe and spun the dial. He wondered what the Russians were angry about now. O'Neil was off-planet for the past week- it couldn't have been the colonel's stirring any pot that riled Moscow. He'd find out soon enough.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, from his seat at the rear of the small jet's cabin- empty but for himself and the loadmaster seated in the very front seat- he watched the blue taxiway lights slide by outside the small window. He felt the plane turn onto the runway then heard the engines roar to life.

Pressed back into his seat as the sleek C-21 Learjet pointed skyward and quickly gained altitude, Hammond closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Dinner might be alone and out of a box, but at least he was getting out of the office, he thought with a sigh.

A/N: Thanks for reading and leaving reviews! This came to me last night in its entirety, the next few chapters haven't, so again, it might be a few days before I can update.

Don't worry, things get better for George...but not for a while and it doesn't last when Col. Maybourne shows up. Poor George.....


	5. Chapter 5 Punch

Winter of Hammond's Heart Chapt 5

Hammond shook hands with the newly pinned Captain, smiling as the young man's friends took pictures of the momentous occasion. His own double-bar ceremony was ages ago. A _lot of water under the bridge since then_, he thought. The flashes stopped and with a last congratulation to the younger officer, Hammond moved away.

The Science Department, mostly comprised of civilians, took interest in its military associates. Hammond was pleased; camaraderie between the two groups went a long way toward cooperation and good morale.

Glancing around the Science Department's meeting room, he found who he was looking for. Dr. Freeman stood at the refreshment table, pouring punch and Hammond suddenly found he was parched. He waited until the half dozen people around the table left, before approaching Dr. Freeman. He had not seen her at all during the past week.

"Good afternoon, Doctor. Might I have some of that?" he asked.

"Promoting people make you thirsty, General?" she asked with a smile, dipping a ladle fullof ginger ale and red fruit juice into the paper cup he held.

"Hard work," he replied, with a grin. Several drops of punch dripped from the ladle's edge, landing on his hand. He set the cup on the table, holding his hand away from his uniform and the table.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Dr. Freeman quickly grabbed a napkin and took his hand in hers, wiping at the sticky drink.

"It's, uh, nothing…don't trouble yourself…uh, thank you, doctor," Hammond stammered, trying to think straight with her hands on his. She wiped once more and he reluctantly pulled his hand away and picked up his cup. He could still feel the touch of her soft, warm fingers.

"I hope it didn't get on your jacket."

"No, not at all," he assured her, feeling like a teenage boy trying to work up the nerve to ask the prettiest girl in school out on a date._ That pretty much sums it up_, he thought.

Several staff members came by for punch and Hammond drank his while she served them. When once again alone, Hammond cleared his throat and stepped closer.

"Dr. Freeman, I want to apologize for the interruption in my office two weeks ago and the unexpected visitors last week," he said loud enough for her to hear, but soft enough, he hoped, that others did not.

"I understand, sir."

"I'm afraid we didn't get a chance to finish our conversation. I was thinking," he continued slowly, "that perhaps we could-"

"Kathryn! I've been looking for you," Daniel Jackson called out, wandering over to them. He looked around the room, then back to the couple. "Nice crowd. Have you finished with the ECCT file? Think they came for the food?" He picked up a cup of punch and drank it in two long swallows. "Is this spiked?" he asked hopefully.

Wondering what he had to do in order to speak with her uninterrupted, Hammond waited while Dr. Freeman tried to follow Daniel Jackson's train of thought. Jackson wondered aloud about why punch was always red or green at parties, thanked her for telling him where the file was, suggested a bottle of rum added to the punch would liven things up, and then wandered off, his unbuttoned shirt flapping as he waved goodbye.

Hammond glanced to his left, then right. "What is this, Hollywood and Vine…Grand Central Station?"

At her laugh and lingering smile, he shored up his resolved and dove in. "Dr. Freeman, what I've been trying to ask you is would you care to-"

"Sir, we have a problem," Chief Master Sergeant Juarez said in a low voice, appearing at his side. Hammond frowned and NCO continued evenly, "in the Gate Room."

Just as calmly, Hammond set his cup down-"Please excuse me, Dr. Freeman"- and walked away, listening intently to his most senior-ranking non-commissioned officer.

Kathryn Freeman watched him leave, still not sure about what George Hammond had intended to ask, but hoping her guess was correct.

George Hammond first met Hector Juarez in a helicopter, flying not quite high enough over the steamy jungle of Viet Nam to avoid potshots from the local villagers. When Juarez let loose, in Spanish, with a stream of profanity in response to a bullet that shot through the open door of the copter, ripping into the panel of wiring the sergeant had only three hours before finished repairing, Hammond was the only person aboard able to fully appreciate the brilliance of the tirade. Captain Hammond fell back, against his rucksack, laughing at what Sgt Juarez planned for the gunner below, and then added a few suggestions of his own. Throughout the years since, they stayed in contact, off and on, but the respect each had for the other never waned or wavered.

"Who's the troop?" Hammond asked after Juarez finished explaining, as they strode down the hall to the elevators. Juarez used his key to call the elevator, overriding its program. Seconds later, the doors opened smoothly and the occupants quickly stepped out, allowing Major General Hammond and CMSgt Juarez privacy.

"Airman by the name of Peterson…Andrew- Andy. Lost a buddy a few weeks back in that ambush with SG1 and 7," Juarez replied as he inserted the key in the panel and sent the lift hurtling swiftly, down to the lowest level.

Hammond grunted. "Damn. Any past problems?"

"No- good troop, set for a third stripe in a couple of months, sir."

"Medical notified? Anybody in there with him?" The doors opened and they exited, the massive doors leading to the Gate Room/Command Center before them.

"Medical should be here and Colonel O'Neil's in there with him."

Jack was good at talking down most troops under duress, but sometimes it took a different touch, Hammond knew. They rounded a corner and slowed their steps, the Gate Room's doors ahead, open. Dr. Janet Fraser waited to the side with two medical technicians.

Between the guards lined up in the doorway, Hammond could see one very distraught young man cradling the firearm pointed at his chest, eyes blank in shock.

"What brought this on?" he asked softly.

"SG7 came under fire just before returning, sir- no injuries other than one troop with a nick on his arm. Peterson followed orders to fall back, but lost it when he stepped through the gate," Juarez answered quietly.

The general turned to Dr. Fraser. "Is the colonel making any headway with him?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

Hammond looked back at Juarez and tilted his bald head toward the door. "Come with me." Inside the Gate Room door, he paused. "Empty the room, Chief." Juarez nodded and waved the security team out, then took position just inside the door, his gun at the ready, out of sight.The general could not be leftunprotected.

Hammond approached the young man and O'Neil, unhurriedly. "Thank you, Colonel. I'd like to speak with Airman Peterson alone."

O'Neil quietly moved away, joining Juarez.

Peterson shifted from foot to foot, watching, his eyes widening at the Major General's arrival.

"Heard you had a rough day, son," Hammond said quietly, looking at the gun's safety catch. It was off. The young man swallowed, his hands shaking. "Heard you lost a friend out there, too."

The airman nodded then spoke, barely audible. "Yes, sir."

Hammond shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose someone that way. You mind if we sit down?" he said, looking to a couple of nearby swivel chairs, the airman's gaze following his. There was no answer and Hammond slowly moved two chairs, pulling them closer to the ramp, setting them facing each other. "Have a seat. Been a long day for both of us."

The young man hesitated then took the empty seat, gun unmoved.

"Where you from, son?" Hammond asked.

It was along moment before Peterson spoke. "Louisiana, sir"

Hammond nodded. "Spent some time there. Why'd you join the Air Force, son?"

"Wanted to serve my country, sir." The hand holding the gun relaxed a bit, the shaking less.

"Me, too. That and to see sights other than Texas dust." The corner of Hammond's mouth lifted as the younger man looked surprised at his joke. "Didn't expect them to be on other planets, though. You?"

"No, sir," Peterson replied with a nervous laugh.

"Son, you have to know that what we're doing is important."

Peterson looked away. "Sometime it seems like…"

"Like we're just chuckin' dirt clods at the side of a barn?" Hammond saw the airman nod and he took a deep breath. "Sometimes we are…but son, sometimes there's a rock inside those dirt clods."

Peterson smiled hesitantly at his commander's words, his grip relaxing a fraction on the gun.

"What you and I are fighting for is important," Hammond reiterated, "and we have to honor those who fought beside us and died, by not giving up. They didn't give up on us."

Peterson met his gaze and Hammond saw a soldier in them. The airman sat up a bit straighter, his eyes clearer. "No, sir."

Hammond leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands clasped loosely, and looked at the younger man intently. "Son, I'm gonna ask you to give me your gun."

Startled, Peterson looked down and stared at the gun clutched to his chest. "I didn't…I wasn't…"

"Give me the gun, son," Hammond repeated calmly.

The airman started to hand it over then suddenly pulled it back. "Safety was off," he said, setting the catch. He handed it over, careful to keep it pointed away from the general.

Relieved, Hammond took it and quickly checked the safety. He placed the gun across his lap,his right hand, keeping a tight grip on it.

Peterson suddenly looked worried. "I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I, sir?"

Hammond shrugged. "Two warriors helping each other through a tough time….that's not wrong, in my book, son. You might consider talking with Dr. Fraser, though. She understands."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir,"

"Would you like to ask her yourself?" he asked, giving his troop the opportunity to make the request and not have the psychiatric evaluation performed at his command. Peterson nodded. He glanced over his shoulder. "Colonel, ask Dr. Fraser to please join us."

He stood, Peterson following, and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. Damn, but the kid looked young! He gave it a squeeze. "You're OK, son. Everything's gonna be all right."


	6. Chapter 6 Going Up?

General Hammond moved to the side, out of the way, as the elevator emptied, returning greetings then stepped inside. For once, he was leaving early. That he was on his way to a meeting at Peterson AFB did not detract from the novelty of it; he was getting out before total darkness, something that rarely happened. Hearing footsteps approach, he placed a hand over the doors to keep them from closing.

"Thank you," the woman said, hurrying inside, looking down at the papers slipping from the file she carried.

"You're welcome, Dr. Freeman," he replied, hitting the "close door" button before anyone else showed up. He wondered what the odds were that the elevator wouldn't stop for more passengers before it reached the surface. Not good, he decided, fishing in his pocket for his keys. _Rank has its privileges_, he thought as he inserted the fireman's key into the control panel and turned it to manual. He pressed "1"; the elevator began to rise quickly.

Dr. Freeman glanced around the elevator, empty but for the two of them then looked at him, curious.

"Thought we'd take the express," he joked. He leaned back against the wall, trying not to stare at her and debated whether he should try once again. _What could possibly happen in an elevator_? He took a deep breath and began, determined not to waste a golden opportunity. "Doctor, I have been trying to speak with you for weeks now. Seems there's always something or someone interrupting."

She held the papers in her arms close to her chest. "I must admit that I'venoticed we never get to finish a conversation."

"One of the more frustrating aspects of command," he said, lifting a hand. He glanced up at the digital display where the numbers were slowing. Confidently, he added with a grin, "Shouldn't be a problem in here."

He felt the elevator slow, then stop. He had better get on with it.

Pushing away from the wall, he crossed his arms choosing his words carefully.

"Dr. Freeman," he said slowly, "would you join m-"

"_THIS IS SECURITY,"_ the elevator speaker squawked loudly. _"DO YOU NEED ASSISSTANCE?"_

Dr. Freeman covered her mouth with her hand, struggling not to laugh at the look on his face. He muttered something succinct but heartfelt under his breath, and turned away, looking heavenward for patience.

_'THIS IS LT. ACKERMAN. DO-'_

"Doctor," Hammond spoke rapidly, swinging around to face her, "would you care to have dinner with me one evening?"

"_-ASSISSTANCE? I RE-"_

"I'd love to, General," she said, still trying not to laugh.

Hammond looked at her, pleased beyond words.

_"- NEED ASSISTANCE? PLEASE REPLY. I REPEAT-"_

Alarms began to ring.

"Oh for the love of…" he growled, tearing his gaze away from her. He pressed the "open door" button and removed his key. The doors slid open, the alarms suddenly quiet.

In greeting, there were ten M-16s pointed at them.

Without thinking, he quickly moved to stand between Dr. Freeman and the guns.

"Sir!" one of the guards shouted, the guns snapping up, away, the men coming to attention.

Thinking it best, in case there were other gun sights trained on them, Hammond stepped into the doorway.

"At ease," he barked, looking around. When he was sure it was clear, he moved out of the doorway, allowing her to exit.

A Captain stepped forward and Hammond addressed him self-assuredly. "Key got stuck- took a minute to get it out, that's all," he said, hoping it sounded like a good excuse.

"Yes, sir!" the Captain replied. No trace of disbelief crossed the officer's face, to Hammond's relief.

"Thank you for your diligence to duty…well done," he added, nodding to the men as he and the doctor passed them. He would certainly never try that again!

Neither of them spoke until they cleared the huge blast doors that led to outside the mountain complex.

"I know a restaurant where the waiters don't carry weapons," he finally said, as they walked toward the parking lot in waning daylight. Still embarrassed, he could not look at her. That whole incident was worse than all the other interruptions put together. "Still care to risk dinner with me?"

"I'll take the chance," she answered, unable to keep from laughing any longer.

Hammond cast a sideways glance at her. A smile spread across his face and his heart felt lighter than it had for a long time.


	7. Chapter 7 Found out

WHH chpt 7

"George, can I ask you something?" Kathryn asked, as they walked slowly along the garden path leading to the Japanese restaurant. Low lights lit the way and a splash of water ahead beckoned.

"Shoot."

Kathryn hesitated, unsure how to phrase her question. She and the general had dated several times and she enjoyed his company very much. His dry sense of humor kept her amused; his 'old school' gentlemanly manners made her feel special. Finding time to see each other was difficult, though. Her four boys took up most of her evenings and weekends and SGC constantly called George in to deal with problems. He promised to speak with Colonel O'Neil about splitting call duty, but even so, there were still issues only he could manage.

While she did not see him often at the mountain, she knew he was constantly on the go and pushed himself harder than he did his staff. He was one of those men who gave his all. There was no time for lunches or chats and he always looked serious when she glimpsed him in the hallways.

Away from work, however, he was more relaxed, and enjoyed discussing anything and everything. Not one to dominate the conversation, he asked her views and listened intently, not just halfway.

She was afraid it was too good to be true.

"Are we…are we supposed to be seeing each other?" The words came out faintly; she was nervous.

"Absolutely!" George's expression was a cross between a leer and a grin.

Kathryn could not help but laugh, but became solemn a few steps later.

"What I meant was… are we _allowed_ to?"

George didn't answer immediately, but stopped near the waterfall, considering. "You mean because you work in my command."

"Yes."

"Well, technically, no." He sat on the rock wall, watching her by the light of the colored lanterns. He smiled. "But, I've been known, on occasion, to disregard rules that did not suit."

She moved to stand near him and looked out over the pool of water. "So we should-"

"We should keep it low-key," he finished for her. "Understand that I do not mean we sneak around, hiding." He lifted a hand and gestured to their surroundings. "We can go where ever we wish, see each other as we choose. But, at work, it's best kept out of view, that's all."

His words did little to lessen her concern. "If someone knew, would it be a problem?"

George shrugged. "I suppose that if someone wanted to create trouble for me, it could become an serious issue." He stood and put his arm lightly around her shoulders. "Nothing I can't handle, though. Come on, let's go try some sushi."

Kathryn let the subject drop as he led her to the restaurant's entrance, but her worry lingered.

It was almost three weeks before they were both free on the same night for dinner. Her younger sons were at a neighbor's birthday sleepover, the older two at a church youth lock in. Usually, when George came by to pick her up, the boys were at a sitter's house or with friends. They had not met him yet and she wanted George to know her sons… but that would entail acknowledging their relationship was more than just friendship.

Was she ready for that?

The restaurant, The Hilltop, overlooked the city. The meal was delicious, George more relaxed than she'd ever seen him, but she was troubled.

The walkway to the parking lot skimmed the over look's edge and below them, the city glittered through a light fog. There might be snow later.

George stopped. Pulling her close, he kissed her.

Kathryn tried to relax. Alone over the past years, she missed being held. Her late husband came to mind and she tensed in George's arms then pulled away.

He studied her, a slight frown of concern on his face.

"I can tell something's bothering you- has been all evening," he said gently.

She looked to the city lights, unable to answer.

"I never told you about my husband," she finally said.

George waited.

"I was blind, really. Never even suspected…" She felt his hand rub across her back and she took a breath to continue. "He was having an affair with a woman from his office. I caught them- came home early one day. He chose her."

George quietly sucked in his breath, furious. "I'm sorry," he said, gently pulling her closer. He kissed her hair.

"He died on a State Department trip to North Africa and I soon discovered he'd mortgaged the house to buy her a home and sold off much of our investments." She laughed dully. "Our retirement fund is probably hanging around her neck."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "We were in the process of a divorce when he died."

George shook his head. "I don't like to speak ill of the dead….but, he was an A-one…." He stopped, his jaw tight, before he said more.

"Don't worry, you can't call him anything I haven't," she said, looking up at him. But, I decided I could either live in anger or move on with my life. I chose to move on."

For a long moment, George simply looked at her. "You are a remarkable woman," he said slowly.

"No, not really. It still makes me very angry to think about what he did to me- and to the boys. It hurts terribly," she replied, looking away. "I don't…trust easily, now."

"I don't blame you. No one would after something like that."

"It's easier to keep a distance." She met his gaze. "If I sometimes seem…" She faltered and looked away quickly.

George touched her cheek and waited until she looked back at him.

"If I'm going to fast, you let me know," he said evenly. "We can go as slow as you want."

She nodded. "Thank you for understanding."

He took her hand and stepped back, to lead her to his car. "Let's get out of the cold."

"George," she said, resisting his gentle tug. "Don't' go _too_ slow."

He came back to her, gazing at her as if seeing her in a new light.

_Damned if I haven't gone and fallen in love with her,_ he thought.

"No, ma'am." He touched his lips to hers and felt her arms slide around his middle.

"What cold?" she said, and he pulled her tight against his body, kissing her passionately.

* * *

"So, whose idea was it to come here?" Daniel asked, as he pulled into the parking lot. It was a fair drive from the city; Antonio's Pizza Garden was a lot closer. 

"The birthday girl," Jack answered.

"The Hilltop is said to be wonderful," Janet explained, defending her choice.

"Yeah, if you don't starve before getting here."

"Sir, you and Teal'C ate a whole can of Pringles on the way up here," Sam pointed out.

Jack waved a hand dismissively. "Just a few chips. I'm ready to eat. What about you, big guy?"

"Indeed."

Daniel pulled into a parking spot in the middle row, facing the overlook. He killed the engine and jammed the handbrake on. "Let's go!"

"WAIT!"

"Carter, what the-"

"Look, over there!"

"What?" Jack scowled at the blonde woman next to him in the back seat then pushed his door open.

"That couple- it's the general," she hissed.

"Nah!"

Sam reached across him, half lying in his lap and jerked his door closed. "That's General Hammond! We can't get out."

"She's right!" Janet called out, from Sam's right. "It is the general…and Kathryn Freeman."

"Why do you suppose they're here?" Daniel asked.

The five watched the couple talk and Hammond take her hand in his.

"Do you suppose they are…dating?" Sam whispered.

Hammond leaned forward and kissed Kathryn, then the two stepped apart.

"I don't think they are here discussing SG policy," Jack said sagely.

Sam and Janet exchanged glances and grinned, eyebrows going up in unison as Kathryn laid her head on Hammond's shoulder.

"The general does have a charm about him," Janet remarked. Sam nodded in agreement.

Jack turned his head to the right, face screwing up in disgust. "Oh, please!"

"Well, he does, sir," Sam said. Jack rolled his eyes and looked back to the reason he was sitting in a cramped car, starving.

Hammond gave Kathryn a quick kiss.

"A good start," Jack said, nodding. "Needs more intensity, though"

Janet and Sam gave him a look.

"What? Do you really think they're seriou- Whoa! Oh yeah, I'd say so!" Jack exclaimed, sitting upright. This was suddenly getting more interesting. Hammond grabbed Kathryn and started some earnest making out. "This is not a first date situation here, guys."

Teal'C's eyebrows rose. "Indeed!"

"She's an SGC employee, he's the commander," Daniel said thoughtfully. "They're not supposed to, uh, be doing that, are they?"

"Well, offhand- and this is just a wild guess- but I'd say that neither one really cares about that, Daniel," Jack replied sarcastically.

"I wonder how long they've been seeing each other," Janet asked, as the couple came up for air, then went at it again.

"Well, I never had a clue anything was going on," Sam added.

"Me neither," Daniel agreed.

"Never gave it a thought," Jack said.

"I knew."

All eyes turned to the former Goa'uld.

"How?" Jack demanded.

"It was not difficult to discern based upon my observations," Teal'C replied. "The recent behavior of General Hammond and Doctor Freeman led me to believe they feel a depth of emotion for one another."

"Want to take a moment to catch your breath, big guy?" Jack asked.

Teal'C turned to stare at him.

"Ok, maybe not, then."

Remembering the couple, all eyes snapped forward. The general and Kathryn were still wrapped in each other's arms, kissing.

"Do you think we should be watching this?" Janet asked, shifting to the left for a better view.

"We can't get out or they'll see us," Sam reasoned. "So, it's not like we're spying on them. Sir, could you not lean on me."

"I can't see because Daniel won't stop moving around!" Jack muttered, thumping the back of Daniel's seat. "How about picking a position and staying there- what are you, one of those bobble headed….space monkeys?"

The couple finally broke apart and Kathryn rested her head on Hammond's shoulder as he nuzzled her neck.

"All this time….and we never knew!" Sam sighed.

"And we can't let them know we do, either," Janet said seriously.

"Why, uh, can't we?" Daniel asked.

"Because," she explained patiently, "their seeing each other isn't allowed-"

"They seem to be managing nicely despite that," Jack interrupted.

"-AND they might be uncomfortable knowing that we know."

"That they know that we know they know…" Jack said, giving her an innocent look.

"Anyway," Janet continued, trying to ignore the colonel, "the longer they can keep their relationship under wraps, the better. If it were to become known around the mountain, it could be difficult for the general, in particular."

They watched as Kathryn seemed to melt against the general.

"They make a cute couple," Sam said dreamily.

"Uh huh," Janet agreed.

"Oh, now don't go starting with the hearts and flowers," Jack groused.

"No, really, Jack, she has a point," Daniel said, ever the voice of reason. "General Hammond has been in a lot better mood lately, you have to admit."

"Yeah, well, that's no reason to go get all sappy back here," he said, moving away from Sam. He quickly resumed leaning against her to see around Daniel's headrest.

The couple began kissing again. There was quiet in the car for a full minute.

"I am impressed," Daniel said slowly, full of admiration.

"Indeed." Teal'C nodded, eyebrows rising as Hammond and Kathryn continued to neck.

"This ought to either lower his stress levels or shoot his blood pressure through the roof," Janet noted.

"She'll be good for him," Sam said. "He never lets on, but I think General Hammond must be lonely."

"He needs someone," Janet agreed, shaking her head. "He has way too much on him and no one to support him."

"Such a sweet romance…"

"Anyone got any popcorn, peanuts?"

"Jack!"

"Colonel!"

"Sir!"

"Ow! Your elbow's sharp, Carter! That hurt!"

"Sorry, sir," Sam answered, without a shred of remorse.

Grumbling, Jack rubbed his right side and inched carefully back toward Sam.

"The windows are fogging up. I can't see a thing!" Daniel complained, wiping at his window.

"Teal'C, wipe the windshield," Jack said, squinting at the now blurry couple.

"What shall I use?" Teal'C asked gravely.

"Use your hanky."

One of Teal'C's eyebrows shot up. "Hank-ee?"

"Yeah, you know- what you blow your nose on," Jack explained.

"Blow my nose?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Janet said, digging in her purse. "Here."

Two ragged, fuzzy tissues sailed over Teal'C's shoulder.

"Have these been used?" he asked dourly, staring at the tissues as if they were about to crawl around on his lap.

"No, of course not!"

"Teal'C! Wipe the window already!"

Teal'C picked up the tissues with a care usually reserved for handling radioactive material then swiped them once across the windshield.

"Aw, they're leaving!" Daniel said, disappointed.

"You expected them to stand out there going at it all night?" Jack asked.

"Looked like they were going to." Daniel grinned. "The general sure is something!"

A red glow filled the car as Hammond's Tahoe started then went into reverse before backing out. They watched in silence as it pulled away slowly.

"Let's eat!"

"I'm starving!"

"Indeed!"

The men flung their doors open and scrambled out.

Janet and Sam looked at each other. "Men!"


	8. Chapter 8 Doubt

Winter of Hammond's Heart

Chapter 8

Kathryn's boys were really something special, Hammond thought with a grin as he drove home from her house. She invited him over for a cookout to meet her sons. They were great kids and his heart immediately took to them. Mark, Nicholas, and Tommy followed Chris, the oldest at fifteen.

Unsure how they would react to his seeing their mother, he'd tried to keep the evening light, listening to whatever the boys wanted to tell him, admiring the dog, the guppies, pet mice, and lizard. He tried his hand at _Mario and Luigi_ and told a couple of stories about his own adventures as a kid with a stray mutt who took up residence under the back porch.

All in all, he thought the evening more stressful than being hauled up in front of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The JCS could only fire him; her boys could shoot down any future he might have with their mom. He hoped he passed muster.

Chris had watched while Mark and Nick talked nonstop, but the boy understood more of what an adult's relationship entailed. Of them all, Chris would remember his father best. For the boy's sake, Hammond hoped the memories were good. The youngest, five-year old Tommy barely said a word but stood staring, wide-eyed with fingers in his mouth. Having another man in the house, even if visiting, had to be unsettling for the boys.

It had been almost three months since that night at the Hilltop Restaurant when she'd confided her husband's mischief and asked him to go slow in their relationship. And he had. He knew she was still wary of getting involved with someone again and he didn't blame her. How a man could do such a thing as her husband had, was beyond him. He didn't want to spook her, now that they were getting closer.

At times, Hammond had to hold himself back, wanting to hurry things along. To make it worse, finding time to get together was not easy. They saw each other irregularly, when work and responsibilities allowed. Usually, they had dinner, lingering over coffee, getting to know one another better, discussing anything and everything. On a couple of occasions, when the weather was fine, they grabbed a bag of fast food and found a park bench. Always, though, the evening ended far too soon for his liking and the times they saw each other were far too infrequent.

Until last week, she had not mentioned his meeting her sons. He understood. Meeting the kids was a big step; Kathryn was protective of her boys, and rightly so. She would not want her sons hurt or confused should things not work out between them. It said a great deal that she allowed him to meet them tonight. He was very glad and took it as a sign that she expected their relationship to strengthen and deepen.

To be honest, Hammond had to admit that his thoughts about Kathryn were serious ones. In all the years since Maggie had died, he'd never once given thought to marrying again. Now, it seemed that was all he could think of.

The question on his mind was would she even consider marrying him?

* * *

"All right, boys and girls, clean up- put your crayons in your boxes -yes, the broken ones, too- and let's get ready for show and tell." 

The kindergarteners hurried to stash the crayons. Show and tell ranked up there with snack time. Too bad it was only once a week. Hustling about noisily, they put everything away quickly then dug treasures for sharing out of their little, brightly colored backpacks.

Taking their seats on the rug, they waited for Mrs. Taylor to sit in her chair. You never knew what you might see for show and tell.

"Now, who has something for us, today?" Seven hands shot up. Assigning a table per week was going to work better than opening it to the whole class, she thought; seventeen hands had gone up the first time. "Well, let's start with the birthday girl. Melissa, what did you bring?"

A tiny, delicate Asian girl sat up on her knees. "I got a stamp from England. It has a picture of Queen He Lives a Bit on it."

The crowd nodded appreciatively. A real queen- that was impressive. Mrs. Taylor covered a laugh. "That's very nice, Melissa. I believe the Queen's name is Elizabeth."

"It came on a birthday card from my uncle."

"How wonderful. You can start a stamp collection. Now, who's next?"

Several children later, they were treated to the sight of a wart on a grubby finger.

"A frog made it," the owner of the afflicted finger informed them, looking rather pleased. A murmur ran through the group. "He peed on me."

The girls made the appropriate squealing sounds of disgust and the boys snickered.

"My goodness!" Did frogs really cause warts? She didn't think so, but her Dad told her and her sister they did. Then again, sometimes it was hard to tell when her dad was teasing or telling the truth. Her dad also said he used to be a handsome prince until her mother kissed him. "Guess we'd better be careful with frogs." Kissed ones, or otherwise.

They went around the circle, each child bringing forth a treasure. One girl, who hadn't brought anything that day, conveniently had a tooth fall out during recess so was able to show not only the tooth, but also the gap where it had been. The only child left was a boy, smaller than the others, who was still quiet and shy among his classmates.

"Did you bring something to show us?" Mrs. Taylor asked gently. His head bobbed up and down, his brown eyes opened wide.

"I got a star from a real general," he said softly, his voice filled with pride. He stuck out his fist and opened it. In his marker-stained palm lay a silver star with its clip. The boys and girls leaned in closer.

"How'd you get it?" asked the girl who lost the tooth. A general's star was good, but she'd get cash for her tooth.

"My momma's boyfriend came over to our house for hamburgers last night and he gave one to me and my brudders, but he's got lots of stars 'cause he's got two stars here-" he pointed to one shoulder, then the other, "-and two stars here."

"Wow! That's a four star general," the boy with the frog-induced wart exclaimed. The kids crowded in for a better view.

The boy nodded. It was the truth; he'd counted them.

"Well, actually the rank goes by how many are on just one shoulder" Sandra Hammond Taylor explained. There weren't many major generals around the Colorado Springs area and she had met all of them- _and their wives_. Jacob Carter was unmarried, but he'd retired and her dad was not clear on just where General Carter had retired to. The only unmarried two star in town was her father.

"That's very interesting, Tommy," she said, her mind in high gear wondering how to carry out the necessary interrogation tactfully. A gleam came to her blue eyes. "What did you and your brothers call him? General…"

"Sir."

"Sir?"

"Momma said we'd better call him sir, so we did," Tommy Freeman explained gravely.

The general had scared him at first. The man was tall and big and didn't have any hair. But, his uniform was really different from anything he'd ever seen before. Colorful medals ribbons and things pinned to it covered the front. One had wings; another had a rocket. He was disappointed the general didn't have a gun, though.

His brothers had crowded around, but he hung back, unsure. When his mom had gently pulled him forward, the general knelt down, smiled, and quietly said hello in a deep voice. He couldn't say anything at all and had simply stared at the ribbons, medals, and stars.

The stars were so sparkly on the man's shoulder, he couldn't help but pull his fingers out of his mouth and reach over and touch one. Momma had fussed a little, embarrassed, but the general just smiled again and asked if he'd like to have one, then took them off his uniform. He got _first_ _pick_, ahead of his brothers.

For the rest of the night, he stayed right next to the general, silently watching the man's every move and listening to every word. The general had said he would come back again. Tommy hoped so.

"Oh!" Sandy said, disappointed. So much for her cleverness. She quickly racked her brain for another scheme.

"Momma calls him George."

"Oh! I see!"

Well, now, this was certainly going to be a very interesting year! She and her father were overdue for a night out, but first she had to talk to her sister.

* * *

Hammond was not surprised when his oldest daughter called to say she and her sister were taking him out for dinner that week, no excuses on his part accepted. They tended to fuss over him when they got the chance and to be honest, it made him feel good that they did. Living alone, he found himself isolated from others at times. He was fortunate to have his daughters in the same town. 

Between his daughters and grandgirls calling him, he spoke with one of his family at least twice a week. In times of crisis as the mountain, he might go for days without speaking to them, but there was an understanding his daughters insisted on. If a week went by and they'd not heard from him, they would be on the phone to his aide wanting to know if he was still alive.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Dr. Fraser would be on the horn to them again, too, should the need arise. When his blood pressure went sky high last year, he suddenly found Sandy and Sara cleaning his cabinets and freezer of all the food the good doctor had pronounced bad for him. They scolded and pleaded, threatened and reasoned. Even now, they seemed to know when his cholesterol was up or when he'd been running on nothing but caffeine and pure determination.

He really should tell his daughters about Kathryn. They had to suspect _something_ was up. During the past two months, he'd turned down several offers to come over for dinner when they knew he was free, and he'd not given them any explanation that was worth a plug nickel. He'd thought about it, but decided he'd rather not jump the gun. If they knew, at every available chance there would be poking and prodding to get the lowdown from him. His girls were persistent.

How would they feel about his seeing someone? They were grown women who surely understood that life went on despite losses and would not object. He felt sure they would be pleased for him. Still, it was best not to spring it on them too late in the game.

He'd tell them tonight.

He pulled into the cramped parking lot and found a place near Sandy's van, near the back of the lot under a flickering sodium streetlamp. He had to squeeze the Tahoe up next to the dumpster and hoped it wasn't the night for it to be emptied.

They'd chosen his favorite Mexican restaurant, which most people would call a dive. It might not look like much, but there wasn't a better place for enchiladas until you hit Texas. He hoped the girls wouldn't give him the evil eye when ordering.

The place was packed, but he spotted them sitting in a booth in the corner and he nodded to Paulo at the front counter before going to join them. Both girls favored their mother, but had his blue eyes. Neither, however, had his hair; Sandy was blonde, Sara brunette.

"Hello, girls," George said, leaning down to kiss each one in turn. "Where are Tessa and Kayla?"

"Oh, we want you all to ourselves tonight, Dad," Sandy said. Her eyes seemed to sparkle; he'd seen them do that when she was younger and about to get into mischief.

"Just the three of us," Sara added. "Don't get to see you enough these days."

"I know, but it can't be helped." George sat in the chair opposite the girls then shrugged as he opened his plastic covered menu and wondered just what he could get away with when he ordered. "Been pretty busy, as always."

"I'll bet," Sara said.

"Huh?"

"Busy time of the year," she said airily. "Lots going on, day and night."

"Uh, yeah," George agreed. "Budget needs to be adjusted, meetings, not to mention, uh…"

"Football," Sandra said helpfully.

"That too! Looks like the Cowboys have a good team this year."

The girls looked at him and smiled.

"Dad, why don't you get that cheese enchilada and beef burrito plate with a side of chili rellanos you like so much?" Sara suggested.

"We've already ordered nachos and cheese dip," Sandy added.

"With extra jalapeños," Sara assured him.

George didn't answer at first, but eyed them, curious. He thought they'd insist he have nothing but a salad without the crackers.

"Come on, Dad. After working so hard without a break for weeks, you need a night to just relax," Sandy said considerately.

A bit too considerately, he thought. But only a fool looked a gift horse in the mouth…and George Hammond was no fool. "OK."

One of the staff brought their nachos and said their waiter would be back in a moment. He could smell the jalapeños. He eyed them with great anticipation.

"Other than taking the girls out for ice cream twice, you haven't been over at all this past month," Sandy said, pushing the platter of chips that were drowning in melted cheese and crowned with a pile of sliced hot peppers toward him.

"You're way too busy- we hardly get to see you when you're home and not rushing off somewhere," Sara added.

"Well, like you said, it's a busy time." George relaxed. They were just annoyed because he hadn't been around. He went after a few chips, testing the waters, but neither daughter said a word, so he scooped up some extra cheese.

They ordered then chatted while waiting. Keeping them talking, he dug into the nachos. He spent lunchtime trying to strong-arm the CIA into spilling information about activity in western Russia where the gate was located, but the CIA was slow in buying his excuse about suspected weapons testing. The two-sided arguments and veiled threats went on right through lunch; George was hungry.

The girls filled him in on what was going on. Sara was taking a class for her Masters and dating a teacher from the local high school; Sandy was settling in for the new school year and getting started on organizing the church Christmas pageant. Tessa and Kayla were taking ballet again.

Their food came and George dove in. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed The Enchilada Grande Especial… that is, with a clear conscience and blessings of his daughters. The first bite was heavenly. So was the second. He knew the third was going to be, too.

"How's the new school year looking, so far?" Sara asked, watching her father do some serious damage to the mound of food before him…not to mention his heart and blood vessels.

"Oh, very interesting" Sandy answered. "Several new families at the school."

"Really? Military?"

"Only a couple." Sandy watched her dad cut a cheese-stuffed chili in half then chew it appreciatively. She thought she heard him sigh. She raised an eyebrow and looked to her sister.

Sara gave her the high sign.

George didn't think the food at Pedro's Cantina ever tasted as good as it did just then. Normally, he didn't go for sweets very much, but fried ice cream sounded like a good way to end the meal. Maybe the girls would let it slip past without comment if he ordered some. If they kept talking, maybe they wouldn't notice.

"Teaching five year-old kindergarten is very interesting."

"Oh? How? Tell me, dear sister."

"Learn something new every day, particularly during show and tell time."

"Such as…"

"Cats lose their whiskers…frogs cause warts."

"Told you so," George said, coming up for air after a long pull on his glass of ice water. He quickly got back to business with the burrito.

"Any special kids in your class?"

"Yes, one girl's family is here from Uruguay for a year, and her mother's teaching at the university as a guest lecturer. Another boy's family just moved from the D.C. area this summer."

"Uruguay…that's interesting. And the boy… is his father military?"

"No, his father died a few years ago."

George's hand stilled, a chunk of burrito balanced precariously on his fork. A coincidence? Could be someone else, he decided. Lot's of people move into the Colorado Springs and Denver area- it had to be a coincidence. The burrito disappeared.

"Oh. His mother is at the university, too," Sara asked, a sly grin spreading across her face as he father inhaled the rest of the chili rellanos.

"No…something academic, I think." Sandy waited a few moments before adding, "A librarian of some sort."

George's head came up. The girls were eating, not even looking at him. He frowned.

"Mmmm. This is a good taco salad!" Sara said, pointing at the filled fried shell with her fork. "How's yours?"

"Excellent. I wish I could make guacamole like this- they must use more lemon juice than I do," Sandy answered.

"Could be. Dad hasn't said much- his food must be good." The girls laughed and went back to eating.

George waited, but they said nothing more. Just happenstance? Sandy and Sara were discussing the amount of heat to put in taco meat. Slowly, he returned to his meal. It had to be.

After exhausting the topic of red pepper, the girls' conversation turned back to Sandy's class. Nearly done with his meal, George thought there just might be room left for that ice cream. He wiped his mouth and looked around hoping to catch the waiter's eye. If he could sneak in an order while the girls were occupied, they might not notice until it was too late.

"So, has anyone brought a frog or snake to class yet?" Sara asked.

"No, but one little boy brought in a star."

"A movie star?"

George threw down his napkin.

"No, not a movie star. That wouldn't fit in a boy's pocket," Sandy answered. "You'll _never_ guess, dear sister."

George sat back in the chair, staring in disbelief at his beloved children for whom he'd sweated, sacrificed, and worked so hard to give every advantage in life. Those same angels had just played him like a fiddle…and a fine tune it was.

"Hmm. Fits in a pocket… Why, the only star like that would be the one our dear Daddy wears on his shoulders," Sara replied sweetly, eyes wide in innocence. In unison, both girls turned to look at him.

"All right," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You've had your fun."

"Why, whatever do you mean, Dad?"

"What! That was _you?_" Sandy asked with mock surprise.

"My own flesh and blood … I can't believe you set me up! Let me get the Enchilada Grande Especial _and_ dream of fried ice cream, at that!"

The girls fell against each other, laughing.

George tilted his head to the side, watching. He pinned Sandy with a look "_You_ are going to explain how you know about this." It was an order.

His firstborn raised an eyebrow. "Dad, I think it's _you_ who has the explaining to do."

George considered. The girls were definitely not upset.

"Over fried ice cream?" he asked, hopefully. The girls' eyes narrowed. So much for that. He sighed. At least he'd gotten the extra nachos and chili rellenos. "All right. Well, you see, it happened like this…."

* * *

"Dr. Freeman?" 

Kathryn shut her car door and turned. "Yes?"

The man gave her an easy smile. "Good morning, Doctor. May I speak with you for a moment?"

"I don't believe we've met." She wasn't scared- they were in the parking lot of the Peterson Air Force Base Personnel Center, in full view of everyone passing in and out. There were tax and insurance forms she needed to sign, so had taken the morning off. She looked more closely at the man.

His smile widened. He had a boyish look to him- not handsome, in particular, but pleasant. Kathryn was certain she'd never met him.

"No, we haven't." he agreed. He held out his hand. "I'm Colonel Harry Maybourne."

She shook his hand, relaxing a bit. He must be an acquaintance of George's. She smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Ma'am. I have worked with General George Hammond on several occasions," he said, leaning an arm against the roof of her car. "The Gate is a fascinating structure, is it not?"

"Do you work at the mountain?" she replied, ignoring the question about the gate. She talked about the Gate with no one, except George.

"No, not exactly, although I've… participated in missions with Colonel O'Neil and SG-1 on several occasions." His smile faded. "Dr. Freeman, there are… friends of General Hammond, who are concerned."

She frowned. Without thinking, she asked"Concerned? What about?"

Maybourne looked away. "I'm afraid that it is a rather delicate matter. It involves…you."

Kathryn stared, speechless.

"Please understand that this is difficult for me and I hesitate to say anything. It pains me to even bring it up, but we thought it best," he continued gravely. "It goes without saying that this should not be repeated. General Hammond would find it very upsetting…and serious consequences could follow."

"I don't understand…"

Maybourne gave her a sad smile. "There are those who know of your and the general's… involvement. They are concerned that there might be trouble for him."

She shook her head. "Trouble? How could I cause-"

"I'm sure you have no intention of any such thing," he quickly reassured her, lifting his hand in emphasis. "It is not you, per se, but the relationship…and objective of other people." He shook his head, sympathetically. "His position…you working at the mountain…I'm afraid it is against certain regulations."

"I'm a civilian."

"I know, and let me say that I _personally_ think it is wonderful that the two of you are friends." Maybourne smiled and laid his hand on his heart. "I think very highly of General Hammond."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand."

The colonel looked around before speaking. He lowered his voice.

"There are those who would like to see General Hammond lose his position," he explained, shaking his head. "The general has a tough job and with it comes tough decisions. Sometimes, the people involved do not like those decisions. It seems that there are men of influence in Washington and elsewhere who would very much like to see General Hammond lose his position….as well as his rank." Maybourne sighed. "It would be a _devastating_ loss for the Stargate Program...and Earth."

Kathryn looked away. "Oh, my."

Maybourne dropped his arm to his side and took a deep breath.

"As I said, Doctor, I do hope things work out for you and the general. Probably will- he's been up against a wall before." Maybourne tilted his head to the side, considering, and continued slowly. "General Hammond would fight, of course, but would most likely accept retirement, again, if it came down to it."

"Retirement?"

"Yes. A shame really- there's rumors he's being considered for a third star." He gave her an appreciative smile. "The general has a lot to lose…but then with you, he has so much more to gain."

Maybourne stepped back. "Good day, Doctor." He smiled then turned and walked away, whistling softly to himself.

* * *

"Janet" Kathryn began, pushing aside her untouched salad. "What are the rules about staff…dating each other?" 

Caught by surprise, Janet Fraser did not answer directly. Since that night in the restaurant parking lot, she had not seen any overt signs that the general and Kathryn were seeing each other- not that she and Sam hadn't watched for them, though. Hammond went about his long workday at his usual break-neck pace; Kathryn spent her day in the science area, cataloging symbols and entering data into the computer. Like today, she often ran into Kathryn during lunch and would share a table.

Janet made the effort to get to know her, not because of knowing about Kathryn seeing General Hammond, but because she genuinely liked Kathryn and also because she felt Kathryn might need a friend at the mountain. As far as Janet knew, she and Sam were the librarian's only friends there.

"You mean military and military, or military and staff?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose….military and staff." Kathryn looked uncomfortable and Janet wondered if there was some trouble. She hoped not.

"Got your eye on someone?" Janet asked lightly. Kathryn blushed and Janet quickly continued. "Just kidding. It _is_ frowned upon, but it would depend on who worked where, if one was the other's boss…that sort of thing."

Kathryn looked away, frowning. "What…could happen?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. On one hand, she did not want to scare Kathryn, but neither did Janet want to lie. "The situation could possibly be simply ignored. If not, depending on the rank and circumstances, a member would receive a reprimand, or at the extreme, face courts martial."

"I see," Kathryn said heavily.

"Look, if someone asks you out, they probably know it's OK and you have no need to worry."

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, I'm sure you're right."

She didn't sound very sure.

"Kathryn, if you ever need someone to talk to… please know that I am here and anything you tell me is confidential," Janet said, offering her a smile.

For a long moment, Kathryn was silent. "Thank you. I'll remember. I should get back to work."

She stood, picking up her tray, then left.

Dr. Fraser drank the last of her diet soda. Now what was that all about?

* * *

"I'm really sorry, darlin'." Being tied to a cactus was preferable to breaking yet another date with Kathryn. How the woman tolerated it, he did not know. Given only an hour's notice, most women would have been seething. Instead, she had said little. "I'll be gone for two days." 

There was silence from the other end of the phone line.

"If there was some way..."

"It's not your fault. I understand, George."

"Well I don't! There's no reason this can't be handled from here." George ran a hand across the top of his bald head and leaned back in his chair. "But, the Vice President and I….well, we don't see eye to eye, so he tries to make things difficult, at times."

He heard Kathryn draw a quick breath.

"The Vice President?"

George debated whether to tell her about what had happened when Kinsey was a senator. The line was a secure one and he trusted her. "He once forced me to turn in my retirement papers, short notice."

"Oh, no!" She suddenly sounded distraught. "How?"

"Well, he managed to briefly get the upper hand."

"But to force you to retire..."

"It didn't last long."

"George, what did he do?"

He didn't answer. He didn't want to say.

"George, did he threaten your family- your _granddaughters?_"

"Nothing happened to them- they were fine," George quickly explained. He heard a trace of panic in her voice. "Kinsey was forced to back down, and we got him good, but he doesn't take losing lightly. Neither do I."

His aide tapped discreetly on his door. His driver was waiting. George shut his eyes, frustrated. There was never enough time.

"Darlin', now listen. Don't you worry about a thing. I don't want you giving any more thought to it." His aide knocked again. "I hate to do it, but I gotta go."

"George, are you sure…?" Her voice faded and she said nothing more.

"Everything will be fine," he said firmly. "Again, I'm real sorry, darlin'. I'll give you a call when I can, I promise."

"Yes…all right."

He said his goodbyes and hung up, puzzled. Kathryn sounded…different. There was a louder knock as the door swung open. Hammond picked up his briefcase, then hat and jacket. He was running late- he'd have to worry about that later.

* * *

_Many thanks to Helena and Selmak for their help. I appreciate Lady Arkin's comments, also!_


	9. Chapter 9 Pothole of life

Chapter 9

"I…I've decided that our seeing each other…," Kathryn began, her voice barely above a whisper, "…it's not for the best."

Stunned, Hammond could not answer, but stood, staring at her.

She looked away, blinking back tears. "I'm very sorry. I know this is a bad time to tell you, but…"

"I don't understand. I thought we…that is…" He shook his head and glanced around the conference room, wishing they were somewhere less public. He had a meeting with his staff and team leaders in less than fifteen minutes. "Was it something I did or…?"

He saw the tears in her eyes and stopped. Hammond lifted a hand to touch her then stopped; she would not want that…she did not want him.

He sucked in a breath. He'd had no inkling, no clue. He hadn't expected this at all!

"Darlin', is there anything I can do? I know my schedule is terrible and I don't make half our dates, but-"

"I understand about your responsibilities." She sniffled and he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief then handed it to her. Embarrassed, she took it and nodded her thanks.

"If I made more time for-"

"No, it's not that."

He spread his hands. "Am I rushing you? I don't mean to…"

She took a deep breath and met his gaze. "George, you did nothing wrong, it's just that….it's just not going to work out. You're a wonderful man, but…"

Hammond did not know what to say.

Kathryn started to say something more, and then simply looked away. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. She turned and walked quickly out the door.

Hammond felt as if he'd been shot. No, worse than that. Pain from a bullet was understandable; _this_, he did not understand.

_He'd been so sure._

Forcing himself to breathe, he walked slowly into his office and shut the door, then sat heavily in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk.

What had he done to cause this?

What _hadn't_ he done, was more like it.

Quick calls late at night, expecting her to be satisfied with a few minutes over the phone…no woman would feel appreciated with that kind of treatment. He'd cancelled more dates than he could count, and half the time he couldn't call and tell her until she was ready and waiting for him, ruining her evening. There was simply never enough _time_.

Then too, despite what he said, it must have seemed to Kathryn that he wanted to hide their relationship, like two people sneaking around, as if he were ashamed of being seen. How could any woman not feel humiliated under those circumstances?

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he leaned back, covering his eyes with a hand.

He'd treated her like _dirt_.

_You stupid SOB!_, he thought angrily. _The best thing that's happened to _

_you in years- or will ever happen until they bury you in your boots- and you screwed it all up and drove her away._

His fist hit the table, rattling the name placard emblazoned with his stars of rank.

_You don't deserve her!_

He should have known that from the start. She was young and pretty and deserved someone better, not an old man who had no future but work, and no time for her or the boys-

_The boys._ Hammond felt his throat start to tighten. He would not be in their lives…their future. All the dreams he dreamed…all his hopes….gone.

"Sir?"

Without looking up, Hammond cleared his throat. "Yes?" he answered abruptly.

"Sir, everyone is ready."

"Thank you, Major. I'll be but a moment."

His aide left and Hammond drew a deep breath, then another and set his jaw.

_There was no time…for her or for himself._

Drained and weary, Hammond stood then walked slowly to the door to yet another meeting.

* * *

The general, Janet Fraser thought for the umpteenth time, looked like hell. If she thought Hammond worked hard before, now it seemed as if he was trying to work himself to death… or forget.

In asking around, she found out he'd been sleeping at the center, getting maybe three or four hours at a time. When not flying back and forth to Washington, he'd gone home only twice in the past three weeks to see his granddaughters. This morning, she'd found a message on her machine from his daughter Sandy, asking about her father.

He was losing weight, not an unneeded thing, but certainly not by skipping most meals. It was not doing his blood pressure any good, she was certain.

Fortunately, he was due a check up. It wasn't for another couple of months yet, but she figured it was close enough and it was for that reason she'd asked him to report to the medical clinic. Filling out his medical record sheet, she watched him as he waited impatiently for her to finish, noting the early signs of exhaustion he showed.

"Well, General, you're blood pressure's up rather high," she said, putting down her pen. "How have you been feeling lately? Any extra pressures…concerns?"

He didn't answer for a moment as he fastened the buttons on his shirt. "I'm always busy, Doctor- SGC demands, travel, the Senate hearings..."

"You're feeling stressed?"

General Hammond stopped buttoning his cuff to stare at her as if she'd just asked if the Goa'uld were evil.

"I think _stressful_ pretty much sums up working here in SGC, don't you, Doctor?"

Her face warmed and she looked at the paper. "Sir, what about non-SGC issues?"

He fumbled in tying his tie, then jerked it from around his neck and started again. "My personal life has no bearing on my performance at SGC, Doctor…unless someone can claim otherwise."

He looked hard at her and she debated whether she should tell him she was aware of his relationship with Kathryn. For the past few weeks, Kathryn had stayed in the science department, coming upstairs for lunch only when the general was out of town. She looked very unhappy, but would brush off any attempts Janet made to broach the subject. They were both miserable and she could not believe that General Hammond had been the one to break it off. Kathryn must have had a reason for doing so, but what possible one could she have?.

Fraser decided against it. It would only serve to embarrass the general; he would not discuss his private affairs with her, in any case.

"No, sir. Your performance is not under question."

He nodded, snugging his tie against his collar. His look softened and he shook his head.

"Life is not always the way we wish, is it, Doctor?" he asked

"No, it isn't…but, sir-"

"If there is nothing more you require?" he broke in, standing straight, shoulders squared.

"No, sir. There's nothing more." She'd pushed as hard as she could, already.

He inclined his head. "Thank you, Doctor Fraser."

Janet watched him leave, and released her breath through pursed lips. Well, that certainly did _not_ accomplish anything.

* * *

"I ran into George at Peterson and to tell the truth, he looked terrible," General Bob Woodward said, helping himself to another scoop of potatoes. "Looked like he'd been through the wringer!"

Helen picked at her chicken then put her fork down. "I stopped by to see Kathryn today- hadn't heard from her in weeks."

"How's she doing?"

"Not good, I'm afraid. She and George aren't seeing each other anymore."

Bob's forkful of garlic potatoes hung inches from his mouth. "You don't say! What in the world happened?"

Helen sighed. "I'm not really sure. She didn't want to talk about it, but after a while, she became rather upset and…well, it didn't make much sense to me, at all!"

"What didn't?"

"She said that her seeing George would hurt his career and cause him problems."

Bob frowned. "Why'd she think such a thing?"

"I asked her the same thing and she said a Colonel….Maybon…Maybird, well, something like that, spoke to her a few weeks ago and since then she'd discovered that what he said was true."

"What? That doesn't sound right!" The potatoes disappeared.

"She insisted that it was. I think she's trying to protect George." Helen picked up her fork and knife.

"Did she ask George about it?"

Helen shook her head. "I don't know- she clammed up after that and the boys came in."

Bob was silent, considering what he'd just heard. Normally, he didn't like to get involved in other people's romantic affairs, but Kathryn and George were an exception. He loaded his fork with more potatoes. He was going to have to see George.

_

* * *

A short chapter, but the rest will follow soon._


	10. Chapter 10 Plans

Chapter 10

"Hey, George!" Bob Woodward hurried to catch up with Hammond then followed him into the Base Ops VIP waiting room.

"Bob!" Hammond said, holding the door open. "What you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

Hammond made a face. "Don't tell me I'm on your black list, too."

"Nah, just wanted to chat a bit. You headed somewhere?" Woodward took a good look at his friend. George looked even worse than before.

"Aren't I always?" George replied, tossing his briefcase on the laminated table beside the coffee pot. He poured a cup.

"How things been?"

"Just fine," Hammond grumbled. He took a sip of the coffee, grimaced, and dropped it in the trash. "The Joint Chiefs are after my ass, the budget's close to a million over already, my second-in-command's just created an international incident, and I can't get Ka-" He drew a deep breath and looked around the room, away from Bob. "I can't get a cup of decent coffee."

"I can't do anything about the Joint Chiefs, the million, or the international incident- _wait a minute _an international incident- how'd he do that?"

"Don't ask," Hammond said wearily, waving the question aside. "Too long a story, even if I could tell it."

"Well, if you have a little while, I _can_ do something about that cup of coffee while we sit and talk."

Hammond glanced at his watch and shook his head. "I only got a few minutes- gonna have to just talk, it seems."

Woodward nodded. "All right. George, do you know a Colonel Maybird?"

"Maybird?"

"Something like that."

"I know a Colonel Maybourne," Hammond answered warily.

"He a close friend you yours?"

Hammond snorted. "Never in his or my wildest dreams would we be considered friends."

"Ah, I see." Woodward said, even though he didn't.

"How do you know him?"

"Actually, I don't, but it seems he spoke with Kathryn and-"

Hammond was instantly irate. "What's he doing talking to her? If he threatened or bothered her in any way, I'll-"

"Wait, George! Let me finish." Woodward was alarmed at his friend's reaction. Why would George assume this Maybourne character would hurt Kathryn? What was going on? "Apparently Maybourne talked to her and led her to believe your seeing each other was jeopardizing your career, including your chances for a third star."

He saw Hammond suddenly become very still, his expression almost blank. This, he thought, was _not_ good.

George could bluster for effect and for distraction, and he blew a bit of temper every now and then, but neither was serious. His calm, quiet anger _was_.

Bob Woodward was neither naïve nor inexperienced. While he didn't know the particulars, he knew George's command was something secret, important, and out of the ordinary and that there would be no investigation should someone disappear on George's order. Probably already had, for good reason.

"Look, it won't do any good if you go-"

"He's been a pain in the ass for my command for years, but this time he's gone too far," Hammond said softly, his gaze focused on a point out the window.

"I have to ask for your word on this, George," Woodman said firmly. He was in the middle and did not want anything happening to his good friend because of what he'd said.

Hammond said nothing, but continued to gaze out across the tarmac, his expression unreadable. Uncomfortable with the thought of what George might do, Woodward was quickly running over a very short list of his options if George refused, when Hammond abruptly answered.

"Don't worry," Hammond said, turning back to face him. "I'll just make him wish he was dead."

"All right," Woodward agreed uneasily. That was about the best he could hope for under the circumstances. "What about Kathryn?"

"It'll have to wait." Hammond said. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Not enough time to call and I'd rather talk with her in person to try and undo the mess Maybourne made…if I can."

Woodward was glad to see a spark back in his friend's eyes. "Helen and I will call her tonight and ask her and the boys over for ice cream."

George looked away at the mention of the boys and Woodward suddenly realized just how hard this was for George. He loved those boys, as much as he did Kathryn. "She cares for you, George, I know she does. When you explain everything, it'll work out. I'm sure of it."

"Gonna be a long two days," Hammond said, "but not as long as the past few weeks."

The door opened and Hammond's aide stepped inside. "Sir, it's time to board."

Hammond picked up his briefcase and stuck out his hand. "Thanks, Bob."

Woodward shook his hand then walked with him out the door. "Remember, George."

"I will," Hammond called over his shoulder, his voice filled with regret. Striding quickly across the tarmac to the small jet, he spoke to his aide. "Major, I need you to get me an appointment with the President either tonight or first thing tomorrow morning."

"Sir, an appointment with the President on this short notice… I'm not sure I can-"

"Tell them Captain Hammond is requesting a few minutes of the President's time."

The major stopped in his tracks, watching as his commander disappeared into the airplane. "_Captain_ Hammond?"

* * *

"What's this about, George?" the President asked, sitting back in his chair, his tie off and shirtsleeves rolled up. He took a swallow of his drink and regarded the man he owed his life to. 

"You remember me telling you a while back about that great little gal that came to work at the mountain?" George answered seriously.

"Wait! Don't tell me there's cupid trouble already!" The President grinned broadly.

"This cupid goes by the name of Colonel Harry Maybourne."

"Do tell," the President said slowly, his grin fading. "You name it- what do you want me to do?"

"Well, there is one little favor I'd like to ask…."

Three hours later, shortly before two in the morning, Hammond's assigned staff car pulled away from the side entrance of the White House, the occupant in the back seat smiling broadly. Twenty minutes later, the Air Force Chief of Staff followed him.

_

* * *

Sorry for the short chapters, but it is easier at the moment for me to post this way. _


	11. Chapter 11 Revenge is Sweet

Chapter 11

General Hammond raised a fist and knocked twice on the door.

"Yes, what is it now?" a muffled voice replied. Hammond knocked again.

"Come in!" Maybourne's impatience was clear eventhrough the heavy panels.

Silently, he opened the door then let it click shut. Behind the desk, Maybourne kept writing. Hammond watched, a dozen scenarios of revenge running through his mind. Everyone one of them would get him locked up for life.

"I _told_ you I didn't want to be disturbed or I'll never get this finished! Apparently you can't follow-"

"Sorry to interrupt, Colonel."

Maybourne's head jerked up, his mouth open at the general's deep voice. It was a long moment before he recovered.

"Well, well. What a pleasant surprise, General," he said warily. "Can't imagine why you came all the way down here to the NID to see me…or _how_."

"Oh, I have my ways of getting things done, Colonel," Hammond replied, taking a seat in the chair opposite the desk. He'd left a trail of irate supervisors and lower-ranking officials from the front door of the NID clear to the guards at this floor's elevator. "I very much wanted to see you."

Elbows on the armrests, he linked his fingers across his belly and stretched out his legs. Hammond wondered how many bugs there were in the office. That the clock to his left, on the shelf facing him, was at an odd angle since Maybourne could not see it. It's center looked about the right size for a low-tech camera. He smiled, his eyes narrowing.

"I regret we missed seeing each other during your last visit to Colorado Springs," Hammond continued casually.

Maybourne watched him, wondering what the general was up to. He'd not counted on Hammond appearing in his office. "Yes, well, it was an interesting visit, none the less."

Hammond nodded his head. "So I heard. I believe you ran into a close friend of mine?" he asked pleasantly.

The colonel sat back in his seat. Surely Hammond wasn't stupid enough to pull anything right in the middle of NID HQ. But, really, what could the general to do? Hammond's hands were tied. Talking with a person, even if she were the general's girlfriend, was not a crime. The general was just blowing hot air. He smiled. No need to deny anything if Hammond knew about it. "Yes, seems I did at that."

Hammond's expression dimmed a shade. "Yes…?"

A show of rank, Maybourne thought with a smirk. Let him have it. The general was harmless- he sent O'Neil to do all the hard work and sat at his desk all day getting fat and writing his memoirs or planning a novel about little green men.

"Yes, _sir_."

His point made, Hammond nodded and cocked his head to one side. "I was in town to see- well, it's not really important who- and thought I'd take the opportunity to come by and congratulate you in person on your new assignment."

Hammond's smile was more of a grin now- that of a predator…and Maybourne was the prey.

"New assignment?" Maybourne asked, caught off guard. He suddenly realized he had greatly underestimated General George Hammond- a serious error. "I haven't heard … I'm sure you're mistaken, General."

"Oh, no, no mistake! Orders just came down. Volunteered to run them over myself."

Maybourne said nothing. This was _not_ as he'd planned.

Giving Maybourne a chance to squirm, Hammond glanced around the office and paused on the ugly, plastic flowers at the desk's edge. He'd bet his snakeskin boots there was a microphone in it. He pursed his lips, disappointed. Harry could do better than that, surely.

Leaning closer to the fake flowers, he shifted in his seat and raised his voice a bit. "You know, Colonel, your reputation has spread far in the Air Force- and beyond! We want to make sure your skills are put to good use and your years of service are rewarded."

On the file cabinet to his right, there was a black notebook leaning against the wall. He peered at it closely. Damned if the patch wasn't visible- another camera. Hammond covered his laugh with a cough.

"We?" Maybourne asked.

"Yes, _we_," Hammond said, slowly pulling a paper from his jacket pocket. With more satisfaction than he'd felt for quite some time, he continued slowly. "Colonel, I'm sure you will be pleased to learn that you are now under _my_ command."

Maybourne paled as Hammond slid the paper across the desk. He leaned forward. His name was at the top of the sheet- orders, signed by the Air Force Chief of Staff. At the bottom was the signature of the President.

"Welcome to SGC, Colonel," Hammond said, unashamedly enjoying the moment, his grin as wide as the Texas horizon.

For a long moment, there was silence in the office.

Maybourne leaned his arms on the desk, considering. "I'm not certain SGC fits with my career plans, sir."

Hammond nodded.

"I know _exactly_ what you mean, Colonel. In fact, we suspected you might rather choose to retire," he said in his best counseling voice. He reached in his pocket for more papers. "Just in case, we have everything all ready to save you time."

Maybourne's mouth was open again.

Hammond reached past the plastic flowers and placed the retirement request forms beside the orders.

"I hope you don't choose to retire, Colonel, because I'm very much looking forward to having you under my authority." Hammond glanced at his watch. If he got away from DC by early afternoon, he could still catch Kathryn before she left work.

Maybourne drew a breath but did not speak.

"Got a special job all picked out for you," Hammond said.

Maybourne sat back in his chair. He wondered just how much of Jack O'Neil's maneuvering against him had actually been Hammond's doing.

Harmless, indeed!

"Well done, General," he said softly in admiration.

"Thank you. Do you need a pen?" Hammond asked, reaching into his jacket.

Maybourne smiled and picked up the pen on his desk. He studied the two papers, and then pushed the orders aside.

"Sign at the red tabs, initial at the green ones, Colonel."

Maybourne signed his name and initials in several places then lay down his pen. Hammond picked them up and flipped quickly through the papers.

"You missed one." The general folded the top sheets under the last page and placed it back on the desk. "I'm sure you understand the importance of a non-disclosure statement. It'd be a tragedy if someone lost their life due to a loose tongue."

Maybourne scratched his name at the bottom then shoved them across the desk. Hammond checked his signature.

"Colonel!" Hammond called over his shoulder as he stood.

The door opened and Jack O'Neil stepped inside, looking very confused. Hammond stood. "Please ask General Herrick to join us."

O'Neil cast a quick glance at Harry then stuck his head out the door. A moment later, a Brigadier General came in.

"General Herrick, this is Colonel Harry Maybourne. Instead of accepting his new assignment with SGC-" Hammond nearly laughed at the look on Jack's face- "he has opted for retirement, effective immediately."

Hammond gave General Herrick the papers Maybourne had just signed. He reached over and picked up the orders- damned if he wasn't going to have it framed! "Colonel Maybourne, the general is here at the request of the Air Force Chief of Staff to personally make sure everything goes smoothly. Colonel O'Neil, with my NCOIC, is here to assist you in clearing out your office."

"How thoughtful," Maybourne replied sarcastically.

"I'm just a nice guy, Harry." O'Neil answered, shrugging. "What can I say, other than have a nice life?"

Hammond faced Maybourne. "Mr. Maybourne, I would suggest you carefully consider your options. Some will be less wise than others."

"I imagine so," Maybourne answered dryly, "under the circumstances."

"You would find Colorado Springs not to your liking," Hammond continued, walking toward the door. "People there can be downright unfriendly."

"Understood, General." Maybourne cleared his throat. "And, sir… my apologies to you and Doctor Freeman."

Hammond did not tust himself to reply. When he reached the door, Maybourne spoke again.

"General, one more thing- don't hesitate to call if I can be of service. We still have a common enemy, sir."

After a moment, Hammond nodded, then stepped out into the hallway to CMSgt Juarez's side. O'Neil joined them.

"General, you mean Harry was assigned to _us_?" Jack asked, incredulous. His expression changed to one of awe. "Sir, did _you_ make that happen?"

"I'll tell you all about it later. For now, I want you to get that office cleaned out and get it to Andrews and on a plane to the mountain by dark."

"Will do, sir. We're ready." Juarez patted the boxes marked 'Property of the United States Air Force' that were stacked in the hallway, then motioned to the waiting Marines. They each took a box and entered Maybourne's office.

"Be careful- the office is infested."

O'Neil grinned. "Should be interesting!"

"It will be, at that. Bring that ugly plant on the desk back, too. It'll be good for a laugh."

"Sir?"

"You'll see." Hammond looked at the shoebox Juarez was holding. "What's that for, Chief?"

Hector Juarez smiled slyly. "The colonel's personal effects, sir."

Hammond laughed. "I've got to make two meetings then catch a plane. Thank you, gentlemen. I"ll see you back at the mountain."

One problem solved and one more to go, Hammond thought as he strode briskly down the corridor. With all his heart, he hoped Kathryn would only listen to him.


	12. Advice

Chapter 12

Delayed in Washington overnight despite his best efforts to the contrary, Hammond was not on a flight back to Colorado until early evening the following day. Flying west, he would gain time but it would still be late afternoon when he made it to the mountain. He hoped it would not be too late to see Kathryn. Hammond shifted in his seat as the loadmaster stuck his head through the doorway of the cockpit where Hammond sat.

"Sir, would you like something to drink- coffee?" the younger man asked.

"Just water, please. Thank you, sergeant."

Trying to control his impatience, Hammond glanced to his left out the window. He didn't mind flying on cargo planes and the padded jump seat behind the left seat of the C-17 Globemaster was a far cry from the rigged canvas ones in the rear of the old C130 Hercules or the C141 Starlifter he'd strapped himself into so many missions in the past. Sometimes, those days seemed like ages ago- sometimes, though, they seemed like only yesterday.

How often had he boarded a big, gray plane to leave behind his family- Maggie, his girls- unsure when, or even if, he would return? More times than he would want to count, he knew. He glanced at his left hand resting on his thigh, bare of the gold ring these few months. Maggie had never complained, not once. She had sent him off with a smile and had met him with a smile, every single time. Up until he met Kathryn, he had never thought he would _ever_ be coming home with hopes of seeing another woman's smile. Yet here he sat wishing for exactly that.

What would Maggie think of his interest in Kathryn?

Hammond sighed. He'd loved Maggie with all his heart, yet he loved Kathryn, too. Would Maggie understand? Would she accept his caring for another woman?

Before she died, she made a great effort to tell him he had to go on living after she was gone. He hadn't wanted to hear it, but Maggie had persisted and made him listen, insisting he not withdraw from life and that he find a reason to get up each day. His reason was his girls and his job at the mountain opposing the Goa'uld. Work had taken over the long, lonely hours after she was gone. It occupied his thoughts, filled his days and half his nights, and gave him a goal: to maintain a safe world for his family.

It had kept him going, but five years of fighting, worrying, and barely making it through one crisis only to have another rear its ugly head had taken a toll. He'd become tired and, if he were honest, he saw little to look forward to but empty years, should the Goa'uld not prevail.

Then, he met Kathryn and everything changed, literally in a moment. The joy he'd known made losing her even worse.

The past weeks had been hell, the loneliness nearly unbearable and he felt lost trying to cope. Exhausted and nearly asleep on his feet, he usually crashed in his quarters just down the hall from his office late at night only to get up a few short hours later and again go as hard as he could. The distractions of command had often worked, but not always. There were times when no amount of urgent meetings, crises, and even off-planet calamities of O'Neil and SG-1 could keep Kathryn and her sons from his thoughts.

Dear heaven, but he missed those boys! Still staring out the window, Hammond let his head fall back against the headrest. How could he endure not being a part of their lives?

The loadmaster reappeared, offering him a bottle of water, and he took it, pulling his thoughts back to the present. He thanked the sergeant and spent a few minutes talking about the airman's current assignment and family back home. When the sergeant left, Hammond again turned to the window, staring absently at the deepening blue sky and wondered if his life would be different when the sun again rose.

* * *

In a hurry, Hammond strode past the thick blast doors at the Cheyenne Mountain complex and rode the elevator deep into its lower levels just as the sun was beginning to descend in the sky. Although there were other pressing matters, seeing Kathryn was his top priority. He had to talk with her- it had been far too long and he was not going to let another day go by without straightening things out.

The elevator stopping at the science level, his shoulders barely cleared the doors as they opened and he went directly to her office. He'd only been there twice, both times on the pretext of an errand.

Keeping their relationship from the eyes of their co-workers had been a challenge. On the occasions he came upon her in the hallways, it was difficult to simply nod and walk on as if she were no more than just another employee, disregarding her other than to give the most superficial of acknowledgements, sometimes not even that.

It was hard to ignore her, but he'd had to. As the general and commander, his actions were always under scrutiny. An aide was always near; staff watched for him. Even his having lunch with her would have raised eyebrows and speculation. There were those who would have noted his attention to a female, particularly one he would not normally have reason to speak to or spend time with. The situation couldn't have been pleasant for her.

His footsteps slowed. Were there other reasons for her breaking it off?

When Bob Woodward told him about Maybourne, he'd been confident that with an explanation he could clear up the misunderstanding and bring Kathryn back in his life.

Suddenly, he wasn't so sure. Maybe she had been looking for an excuse to stop seeing him and Maybourne's lies had given her the opportunity to act. Maybe she had never been sure of her feelings toward him to begin with. How much of her worry and discomfort had been for reasons other than simply how their seeing each other would affect his career?

He looked in the mirror every morning. He was nothing special to look at, overweight, bald, and old. What could she _possibly_ see in him?

Perhaps, she would _not_ _want_ to resume their relationship. For a moment, he shook his head, shoving the painful thought from his mind.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her office door then opened it and looked inside. She wasn't there. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped.

"Looking for someone?" Daniel Jackson asked over the rim of a foam cup. He took a sip of coffee.

"Well, yes, I was looking for Dr. Freeman." Hammond tried to act as if he routinely came searching for the librarian. "I need to…discuss certain matters with her. Do you know where I can find her, Dr. Jackson?"

The younger man did not reply, but looked at Hammond thoughtfully, as if examining an interesting specimen.

"Doctor, I'm short of time, so if-"

"Sir, I admire you very much."

"Thank you, Doctor, but-"

"I've come to think of you as a…a wise grandfather, of sorts." Daniel nodded, agreeing with himself then took another swallow of coffee.

Hammond's eyes widened. "Hell, I'm not _that_ old!"

Daniel frowned and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Well, maybe an uncle, or maybe even a…a-"

"Dr. Jackson, I'm in a hurry. Do you-"

"Right." Daniel drew a quick breath. "Sir, I just wanted to say that you need to fix whatever's wrong between you and Kathryn."

"How do you know-"

"You should go to her, sir!"

"As I said, I'm looking for Dr. Freeman and-"

"That's it, sir! Crawl back to her and-"

"Crawl? I'm not-"

"Swallow your pride and apologize for whatever you did wrong!"

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Begging isn't easy, I can tell you that, but, if you _have_ to plead for forgiveness, it works so-"

"_Where_," Hammond tried again, "is Dr. Freeman?"

Daniel looked around and shrugged. "I don't know. She's not here."  
"Damn!" Hammond growled, turning abruptly and marching away.

"Glad to be of help, sir….anytime!" Jackson called out. He took another sip of coffee, fished around in his pocket with his free hand, and then rubbed a wad of tissues across his nose. He smiled, satisfied. "It's a good feeling to help someone."

* * *

One floor down, Hammond rounded a corner and nearly ran into his second in command.

"Hiya, General!" His uniform top open, Jack scratched absently at his stomach.

"Colonel, you're back. Good. I'm busy right now, but-"

"Yes, sir. We got Harry's office packed, hauled it to Andrews, and had it on a plane back here by lunchtime- General Herrick pulled a few strings for us."

"Fine. That's good. We'll talk later about what happened-"

"Say no more, sir," Jack began, lifting a hand to stop his commander. "I know all about you and…." Jack jammed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He wagged his head side to side. "Well…not _all_ about you and-"

"Colonel, I have a pressing matter to deal with at the moment, so-"

"General, I look up to you a lot- in fact, I think of you as a-"

Hammond's eyes narrowed. "Jack, if you say 'father', I'll tear you apart!"

O'Neil ran a hand through his graying hair and quickly reconsidered. "No sir! A big brother."

"Well, that's better than-"

"And I hope you don't mind me saying so, but I've gotta say you're handling this….this… _whatever_ it is with Kathryn Freeman all wrong."

Hammond put his hands on his hips. "How do you know about-"

"You see, General, with women you have to be strong…take charge! They like that."

"Colonel, this is none of-"

"Sir, you gotta tell her how it is- you have to be firm! It's the caveman thing." Jack was getting wound up on the subject. "See, women like a forceful alpha male, someone who claims his woman by the hair- well, not literally by the hair because that's pretty painful, not that you would know, of course, but-"

"Jack!"

"Sir?"

"Dismissed!" Hammond spun around and strode away.

"That's it- go after her, General!" With a big grin on his face, Jack watched Hammond disappear around the corner. He pumped his fist in the air. "Oh yeah! You're good, O'Neil!"

* * *

Kathryn wasn't in the mountain's small library, but Samantha Carter was. She stood as soon as he stepped in the door.

"Sir, there's something I need to discuss with you concerning the Gate function."

"Unless it is urgent matter, now's not a good time," Hammond said. The room was empty but for two of them. He turned to leave.

"It's a problem that's confounded us for quite some time, but I believe I've discovered a way to solve the dilemma."

Hammond frowned. An operational crisis at the moment was not what he needed, but problems with the gate were of the utmost importance. "What dilemma is that, Major?"

"I've been researching the varying wavelength of the electro-magnetic radiation emitted in the room when Gate is activated and how the fluctuations might be averted."

"_What_?"

"The light above the Gate that flickers every time we dial out, sir- I know how to prevent this from occurring!"

"A flickering light?"

"Yes, sir. You see, sir, I've devised a plan to shield the fixture from vibrations, dampening the field of-"

"I can tell you how to fix it- tighten the bulb in the socket!" Hammond nearly rolled his eyes. Sometimes, he wondered about the Major.

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. "That might work, too, sir."

"Major Carter, I need to know Dr. Kathryn Freeman's whereabouts."

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hammond relaxed. Finally!

"Sir, I admire you very much and because you and Dad are so close," she looked away shyly, "I have to confess that I look up to you as something of a second father, sir."

Hammond started to object, but then realized he and Jacob were the same age. He closed his mouth.

"I understand about _everything_, sir, and if I may say so, you should feel proud."

"Proud?"

"The fact that you can overcome the male mindset that women are subservient to men and should be treated as nothing better than a sex object and that intelligence is a hindrance to a meaningful relationship, is remarkable, sir, and well beyond the typical caveman attitude that most men try to impose on women all in the name of masculinity and-"

Hammond looked at her in wonderment.

"Major?" he said softly.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ask maintenance to fix that bulb."

"Yes, sir."

He left, quickly.

* * *

Heading toward the chow hall in case Kathryn was taking a break, he was surprised when Teal'C fell in step beside him.

"General Hammond, may I have a moment?"

"What's on your mind?" Hammond asked, without slowing his pace. At this rate, finding her was going to take him all evening. Despite how it would appear to Kathryn, and the fact that it would be the talk of the mountain for weeks to come, he was tempted to get on the horn and page her.

"Sir, you are worthy of great respect."

"Thank you, Teal'C."

"You are a true warrior, General Hammond, and I think of you as-"

Hammond held his breath.

"-a mentor."

He let it out.

"Sir, I am aware that a distance has grown between you and Dr. Freeman."

Hammond stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Does _everyone_ at the mountainknow about the doctor and me?"

Teal'C linked his hands behind his back. "Indeed they should. It was obvious."

George shook his head and continued walking. Teal'C followed.

"Sir, the practice of Kelnorim allows me to be in touch with my inner self."

"That's good."

"It has the effect of increasing my awareness of my deeper emotions."

"I'm very happy for you."

"Women find this sensitivity to be… pleasing." Teal'C almost sounded embarrassed.

Hammond closed his eyes briefly and kept moving. He hoped this wasn't going where he thought it was.

"If you were to practice this method of self-enlightenment, you might become aware of your inner consciousness, pleasing Dr. Freeman thus ending the estrangement between you."

"Look, I appreciate your concern, Teal'C, but I think I can handle it from here," he replied.

Teal'C's expression became even more dour than usual. "General Hammond, while sexual skills are indeed important, I have noted that Taur'i women also desire their males express themselves without restraint and from deep within."

Hammond stopped and stared. "I'll keep that in mind."

Teal'C inclined his head and gave Hammond a small smile. "I am honored to be of service."

"You can be of even greater service if you tell me where Dr. Freeman is," Hammond answered dryly, not expecting a helpful reply.

"Of course, General. Dr. Freeman is meeting Dr. Fraser for coffee in the medical facility."

"Thank you, Teal'C!"

"You are most welcome, Hammond of Texas." Teal'C bowed deeply. When he straightened, the general was nowhere in sight.

* * *

"I know about you and General Hammond," Janet said gently.

Kathryn's looked up from the cup of coffee that sat untouched before her. "You do? How?"

"I saw the two of you out one night," she replied. She was very concerned about her friend.

"Oh! Do others know?" Kathryn asked, frowning.

Janet nodded. "A few." She wondered if Kathryn was embarrassed over her knowing. "You aren't seeing him anymore, are you?"

"No. No, we aren't- this won't create trouble for him, will it?" Kathryn asked, sounding fearful. "The others that know…will they tell anyone?"

Janet could not answer for a moment. Her friend wasn't embarrassed, but afraid. What in the world had gone wrong?

"Why would your seeing each other create trouble, Kathryn?"

She got no reply.

The general had pretty much told her it was none of her business, but Janet was undeterred. She could see the two of them were miserable. While Hammond's performance of duties had not suffered, his health had, noticeably, and come the beginning of the week she was going to call him into her office again, whatever the consequences.

"Kathryn, I really want to help. Please tell-"

There was a knock on at her door.

Hammond stopped in the open doorway of the small office and saw Kathryn a few moments before she noticed him. His heart thumped faster in his chest and he had to force himself not to rush across the room to her, but simply stand there. She appeared tired and very fragile and he desperately wanted to hold her in his arms. Suddenly, Kathryn looked up and saw him.

She put her coffee down and stood.

"I'll be going," she said to Janet, who also got up. Kathryn moved to leave, but Hammond stayed where he was, deliberately blocking the doorway. She hesitated, uncertain what to do.

Would she listen to him? Could he undo the damage Maybourne had done?

What to say? Every speech he'd rehearsed over the past twenty-four hours flew out of his head. Hammond lifted his hand.

"Dr. Freeman, if I may I'd like to speak with you a moment- please."

She hesitated. "I…I don't know. It may not be…"

Her voice trailed off.

"If you'll excuse me, I have work to see to," Janet said quietly, moving to leave them alone.

He saw the discomfort on Kathryn's face. She had paled and looked ready to run, like a scared rabbit. His heart broke again. Hammond spoke quickly.

"If you would, please stay, Doctor Fraser." He'd much rather keep this private, but Janet was one of Kathryn's few friends and perhaps Kathryn would feel more at ease with someone else there. Maybe it would reassure that he would keep his distance and not press her in any way. Hammond was certain the doctor would never breathe a word of what she heard. Janet Fraser had his absolute trust.

Janet looked to the other woman. Kathryn nodded and the doctor sat, her gaze directed at the desk before her.

Hammond stepped closer to Kathryn and took a deep breath.

"All I ask is that you hear me out. _Please_, just let me explain." He waited, wondering if he had more than a ghost of a chance. Finally, she shook her head, looking at the floor.

"You don't have to explain anything, George, it was my decision. It's for the best…" Her voice began to falter and she stopped.

"No, no isn't! That man who spoke to you in the parking lot- Colonel Harry Maybourne-"

"Maybourne!" Janet's head jerked up and she stared at Hammond in disbelief. She bit her lip and forced herself to be quiet and look away.

Hammond nodded and continued. "Colonel Maybourne was trying to stir up trouble- nothing more."

"He knew you, he knew about the gate and the command."

"Yes, he does- he's nearly gotten strung up twice for illegal gate and off world activity that we had to clean up after."

"He said there was a problem with our being involved. He said your career would be hurt by our seeing each other."

Hammond waited, letting her talk, not wanting to rush her. She hadn't turned him down flat and was listening to him; he didn't want to blow his only chance.

"He said that…that there were people who would try to create problems, people in power who would use me to hurt you."

Hammond moved closer but did not touch her, even though he dearly wanted to.

"Darlin', listen to me. He was _lying_. Our seeing each other will _not_ put my career in jeopardy or keep me from getting a third star- hell, I don't even _want_ a third star!"

"But, the rules about a commander dating an employee- you could get in trouble! It could ruin-"

"It won't and wouldn't care even if it could!"

Kathryn didn't answer, but her expression remained clouded.

"I'm not saying I don't have a few enemies, but if they try to cause problems, it won't be because of you and I seeing each other."

Unconvinced, she shook her head. "The Vice-President-"

"To hell with the Vice-President!" George neared shouted. "Honey, you and I have a standing invitation to dinner at the White House. The _President_ is an old friend of mine- has been since 'Nam, and he's known all about you from that first night we went out. My commander in chief is _pleased_, not angry."

She looked up at him and he quickly continued, his voice becoming gentle.

"Kathryn, you are the best thing in the world for me. I can't even begin to tell you how much I care for you and the boys."

Her eyes filled with tears and unable to resist, he reached for her and wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered. "I love you with all my heart. Please- let me come back in your life."

Her arms slid around his middle and she buried her face in his chest. "Oh, George, I've missed you so!"

George let out the breath he'd been holding and hugged her tighter. "I'll never let you go, darlin', I swear!"

Janet slipped out of her office, smiling broadly at the couple in each other's arms. It was a long time before they noticed they were alone.

_

* * *

I'm sorry for the delay in updating this. I'll try to get the next chapter up more quickly. Thanks for the reviews and comments!_


	13. More advice

Chapter 13

George Hammond had barely been in his house ten minutes before he heard the front door slam.

"Dad! Dad, where are you?"

His eldest was after him.

He drank from the glass of ice water he'd poured, took a bite of the sub sandwich he'd grabbed on the way home, and waited on the den steps.

"Dad, I know you're here! I talked to your aide a little while ago and he said you got home this evening," she yelled from the living room, "and you were on your way here."

He was in for it, he could tell.

Hammond heard her putting away the jug of water. She'd made it to the kitchen. There was a rustle of paper; she was cleaning up the sandwich bag. The trashcan lid banged shut. "Dad, I saw the wet tracks in the driveway leading into the garage."

Sandy would have made a fine detective, he thought. He took another bite of his sub.

"Dad! You'd better answer unless you're in the shower or so help me-"

She had his temperament, that's for sure.

"What are you yellin' for? I'm right here," he said, coming down the steps as she stormed into the den. "It's eleven o'clock at night- I could have been sleeping!"

Sandy crossed the room and raised one eyebrow.

"Fat chance! You haven't gotten to bed before midnight in the past twenty years and haven't been home to sleep in your own bed in the past three weeks!"

Oh, boy! George thought fast- how to head this off?

"So…how's things with my favorite granddaughters?" he asked hopefully.

"Dad, you and I are going to have a little talk."

He waved the half-eaten sandwich in the air. A piece of lettuce fell on the floor. "Can't I even finish this and change clothes?"

"No." Sandy picked up the lettuce then sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. "Pretty soon the phone will ring and you'll be off, apologizing for leaving."

George sighed. Maggie, though a sweet and charming woman, had a streak of iron in her that few others ever saw. Sandy had it, too.

He wrapped the crumpled wax paper around the remains of his sandwich and put it with the water on the coffee table, then sat. Sandy gave him a bit of the stink eye and leaned over to place the glass on a coaster. George rolled his eyes and waited.

"Now, Dad," Sandy began, her voice sugary. "You know Sara and I love you and we try to stay out of your business…"

_But…_ he thought.

"But, we can't just sit idly by watching and not say a thing when we know something is wrong."

"Lord, no," he muttered, "you can't do that!"

"What? I didn't-"

"I said, 'I know that'."

"Good." She relaxed. "I'm glad you see it my way and want to talk about it."

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say-"

"You've been looking worse and worse- just terrible!"

"Thanks," he replied dryly.

"You've been hiding out at that mountain-"

"It's called _work_."

"-working around the clock-"

"It's called _responsibility_. Speaking of which, how are the girls? Did you tuck them in bed before you took off, chasing after me?"

"Don't try to distract me. – you're rarely coming out to see anyone…including the girls."

His daughter had him there.

She took a deep breath. "I know you care about Kathryn."

"Sandy, I don't think-"

"And, I know you were hurt when things didn't work out between you."

"Really, it's not-"

"But, Dad, it's not the end of the world."

George groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. His daughter was lecturing him about love!

"I know it hurts now," she said gently, taking pity on her father's slumped figure. "But one day…one day you'll look back and-"

_Oh, please!_ He covered his eyes with his hand._ Don't say 'laugh!'_

"-understand it just wasn't meant to be."

His own words come back to haunt him. He dropped his hand. Sandy was watching him.

"There's other fish in the sea?" he asked.

"Well, yes, but I always hated when you said that," she replied, with a laugh. She became serious again. "Dad, the hurt will ease-"

"Sandy, honey, I'm not in any pain. Things are just fi-"

"You just hold it in too much."

"Hold what?"

"Your feelings." She laid her hand on his arm. "Get in touch with them. Let them out."

"I know doggone good and well how I feel!" Had she been talking to Teal'C?

"Dr. Phil says-"

"I don't give a hoot what Dr. Phil says. Everything is-"

"If you hold it in, it'll only get worse."

_"Sandy, everything is fine!"_ he yelled.

"That's the spirit, Dad! See, don't you feel better already?"

What he felt was a headache coming on.

He scooted around to face her, looking her square in the eyes.

"Everything _is_ fine! It was just a misunderstanding."

Her eyes widened. "What? A misunderstanding?"

George nodded and grinned. "Yep, got it all straightened out tonight.

Her eyes narrowed. "You mean to say you sat here and didn't tell me! You couldn't take a moment to call your own flesh and blood who've been worried sick about you and-"

Oh, Lord! George raised a hand. "Wait!"

She sat, watching him with a look that made him want to turn tail.

"Like I said, it was only a misunderstanding and it's no longer a problem."

For a moment, he thought she was going to launch into another bombardment, but her expression changed into a beautiful smile and she flung her arms around his neck.

"Daddy, I'm so happy for you!" she squealed. She sat back, up on her knees. "When's the wedding?"

"Wedding?"

"Come on, you're not getting any younger! When?"

"Well, I don't-"

The phone rang.

"I gotta go get that," he said with a sigh of relief. He jumped up and nearly ran to the phone under his daughter's sharp-eyed stare. It was, he knew, only a temporary escape.

His hand froze on the still jangling phone.

When _was_ the wedding?

George grinned like man given the world.

* * *

_Not so serious, I know, but I liked George being harrassed by his daughter._

_So...should there be a wedding or jump straight to the honeymoon?_


	14. Chapter 14 Honeymoon

Chapter14

_Kathryn Hammond_.

She liked the sound of that very, very much. Digging her toes into the warm, soft sand, Kathryn sighed in contentment.

Had anyone told her a year ago she would meet, fall in love with, and marry a truly wonderful man- a two-star general who traveled to other planets at that- she would have told them quite frankly they were nuts. But, that's exactly what had happened.

The wedding had been a small one at Bob and Helen Woodman's home with only their children and close family. Later, there was a reception at the Officer's Club for all their friends and co-workers complete with cake and champagne. A pleased Samantha Carter had caught the bouquet; a stunned Jack O'Neil had found himself holding the garter. Kathryn had a suspicion that George had aimed it at the colonel.

The boys had had a grand time and were now scattered between George's daughter Sandy and two other friends, excitedoverthe upcoming move toa newhouse. They were also delighted to have a new dad. George, it seemed to her, was just as delighted to have four new sons.

There was the sound of something hitting the sand behind her and she turned to see her husband.

"I have the gear and the guy at the shop told me about a great place to snorkel- it's on the other side of the point. Not many people go there, but it has lots of fish and coral." George smiled at her.

"Alright," she replied, unfolding herself from the beach chair. Clad in nothing but a bikini, she had to fight the urge to cover herself with her towel; George was her husband, and had been for all of five days, but she still felt shy.

His eyes lit up and for a moment, she wondered if he was going to suggest they skip snorkeling and retire to their private cottage. "But, then, maybe the water's too cold yet and we should…"

"The water's no colder than it was yesterday," she said with a laugh, and then whispered, "Let the poor maid a chance to change the sheets."

George grinned from ear to ear and picked up the gear.

The water was breathtaking. In the shallower areas, the color was a light turquoise, and farther out, in deeper water, it was a deep, clear blue. Schools of fish swam lazily among the coral and the lava, which was worn smooth from the constant waves. A yellow fish darted across their path, followed by several white and black striped ones. George, swimming just ahead of her, holding her hand and pulling her along, pointed to a jumble of rocks. A small, striped eel slithered into a crack.

Several minutes later, she felt a tug on her hand and they stood on the sandy bottom.

"Let's go up there," George said, nodding his head toward the blackish-gray rocks along the beach. Awkwardly, she slipped off her fins while holding on to his strong arm. They made their way ashore and he stashed their gear where the tide would not reach it.

It was a steep slope, but the lava was flat and only lightly pockmarked.

"Looks like there's a small cave up there," George said, a now-familiar light coming to his eyes as he took off with her in tow.

"George!"

"Yes, darlin'?"

"Just what do you have in mind?"

"Ah, well, I thought we'd get out of the sun for a while," he replied innocently, helping her up onto the first rock, and then leading the way across the uneven ground to the cave. "I'm sure we can find something to keep us occupied."

"You can't be serious about-"

"Darlin', there's nobody around to see!" George gave her a quick kiss. "Come on- here's the entrance."

The cool, deep shade of the cavern was a relief after the hot sun Kathryn had to admit. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the walls and boulders were polished smooth from nearly a million years of waves scouring its interior. It was dry with a sandy floor, and standing several yards back from the entrance, no one could see them, just as he had said.

"Come here, beautiful," George murmured, slipping his hands around her waist and pulling her toward him. His skin felt hot against hers. He kissed her neck while his fingers slid lower.

"Really, I don't think-" Her words were cut off abruptly when he sat down on a flat rock and pulled her onto his lap facing him. "Oh, George, are you sure it's OK?"

"Better than OK," he replied, running his fingers under the straps that held up her top. She squirmed uneasily, still unsure about his idea. For heaven's sake- they were almost out in public!

George chuckled, his laugh rumbling deep in his chest. "You keep that up and I'll have to go back in the water to cool off."

He pulled her closer, snugging her up against him. George trailed light kisses over her shoulder then collarbone. Kathryn sighed, relaxing against him as he adjusted her position a bit.

Eyes half-open, she enjoyed the sensation of their being close, his skin against hers with nothing between them. Reflected light from the ocean played on the walls, wavering flashes of sun. Her eyes opened wider and she gasped. George chuckled.

"Now, Mrs. Hammond, I'm going to-"

"George! I can't believe this!"

"It's for real," he whispered in her ear, mightily pleased with himself . "And, Darlin', I always aim to please!"

"But, George-"

"Just relax, honey, and enjoy the ride," he broke in. He was beginning to sweat. "Let me be in charge."

"George-"

"Hang on, sweetheart!"

"It's _incredible_!"

"I know, darlin'," he growled, picking up the pace.

"No, not you!"

"_What_?" he said, coming to an abrupt halt.

She shifted over to her right, coming halfway off his lap, for a better look.  
Kathryn stared at the wall behind them. "On the wall- you have to see it!"

_"Now?"_

"Yes- it's right there!"

Mumbling _"Woman, this had better be good"_ under his breath, George twisted carefully on the rock to glance over his shoulder.

On the wall, etched into the old lava, was an unmistakable series of chevrons.

Letting his breath out slowly, he stared at it silently for a moment, and then turned back to his previous position andfirmly seated his wife on his lap.

"George, aren't we going to do something?"

"Uh huh," he said, settling her into position. "We sure are!"

"No- about the symbols on the wall."

"They've been there for thousands of years…they'll be there for another half-hour," he replied matter-of-factly. George grinned. "Now, darlin'…where were we?"

* * *

Curled in her husband's lap as they sat on a reclining beach chair, Kathryn breathed softly into George's neck. "This is wonderful."

He tightened his left arm around her, the fingers of his right hand lightly tracing across the top of her thigh. "Mmhmm," he agreed. The previous day's discovery had kept him busy with work for a couple of hours that evening calling in the facts and location for a team to check out, but he was determined to stay out of the investigation. This was his _honeymoon_.

Everything, barring time spent on the phone to his office at the mountain, had been perfect. The weather, the food, the beach and private bungalow at the exclusive resort. He had offered to take Kathryn anywhere on their honeymoon and she said she wanted to go somewhere warm- Hawaii.

His wife's perfume mingled with the flowery scents that hung heavily in the evening air. Above them, the sky was clear and black with a scattering of stars. "No telephones, no reports…no klaxons or warning lights going off day and night." He let his head rest against the chair back. "And no interruptions."

Lazily, he reached for his glass of bourbon, ignoring the sand that fell from the damp glass onto his shirt. A huge yellow moon hung over the Pacific Ocean, just above the horizon. "Just you and me and the moo-"

_"Ah…excuse us."_ Behind them, George heard someone clear her throat, and another cough. His hand paused for a second, the glass nearly to his lips. He took a sip.

"Yes, Major?" he said slowly. Kathryn moved to sit up, but he held her, keeping her close.

Unsure what to do, Major Samantha Carter stepped closer to the snuggling couple and into the light of a nearby tiki torch, careful to stay a good ten feet away. They couldn't very well talk to the back of the general's head, yet it was not the situation where one pulled up a chair and popped open a cold one. Daniel sauntered after her.

"Uh, sir, we're sorry to disturb you and Ka-, I mean, Mrs. Hammond," Carter answered, shifting from one foot to the other.

The words 'then why are you?' were on the tip of his tongue, but instead George asked, "Is there something you wanted?"

Carter looked at Daniel. She had been the one to interrupt them; Daniel could do the talking. She nodded toward the newlyweds. "Go on," she whispered.

Daniel Jackson looked at the moon, the sand under his worn-out sandals, the bougainvillea climbing over the cottage porch, the waves, and then back to the moon- anywhere but the half-naked couple cuddling together in the low-slung beach chair.

"Well, we, uh…We thought you might want to, uh, know the cave markings are chevrons, sir," he finally said. He scratched the back of his neck. Being near the ocean always made him itch.

The general didn't reply for a moment, but took another sip of his drink then rested his arm on the edge of the chair, letting the glass dangle from his fingers.

"I know they are," he replied patiently. "That's why I called you, son."

Daniel craned his neck to look up at the stars and wished he were off-world at the moment. When neither the general nor Daniel said anything, Carter spoke.

"Sir, the chevrons may very well provide us with the setting for a new destination through the gate. Further back, I found other less distinct, but still legible markings that may be traces of what could be-"

"Major," Hammond interrupted. He swirled what was left of his drink, the ice cubes rattling. "You also found lodging for the night?"

"Yes, sir," Carter answered. "We're staying at the Hibiscus Inn near the airport."

"Yeah, this place didn't have any vacancies," Jackson added. He shrugged, cocking his head to the side and gestured toward the nearby luxury cottage. "Seems like a pretty nice place. Got to be a couple of rooms in each, at least," he added hopefully.

Carter shot him a look that should have dropped him where he stood. It didn't. Daniel kept talking.

"But, you know the rates here were a little more than the per diem- actually,a _lot_ more-

and-"

"Major Carter," Hammond said, trying to keep his voice level. "I suggest you and Dr. Jackson return to your hotel and get some rest tonight so that you might continue your investigations in the morning."

"Yes, sir." This time, her look sufficiently warned Daniel not to speak.

"Thank you for keeping me informed. I'll expect a report when I return…and no sooner than that," he continued firmly. The last of the ice clinked against the side of the glass as he lifted it. He turned to look at them pointedly. "_Good night_, Major, Doctor."

"Goodnight, sir, Ma'am." Carter stepped back, restraining the impulse to run.

"Goodnight, sir, Kathryn," Daniel said, lifting his hand to wave goodbye. "Hope you and the general have a great honeymoon." He bounced on his toes. "You know what they say…'Do it 'till you-'"

Carter grabbed Daniel by his jacket and yanked him away from the couple, letting go only when they reached the safety of the sidewalk on the other side of the tall hibiscus hedge.

_"Are you crazy?"_ she hissed. Daniel's expression was one of complete innocence.

From the beach, they heard a giggle, and then what could have been either a deep laugh or a growl.

* * *

_For those who wanted a wedding, I apologize. Quite frankly, nothing other than the clichéd hunt for the wedding rings or mad rush to get to the church on time came to mind. The next chapter is the last one, but I do have an idea sketched out on paper for a second part. It needs quite a bit of work, however. Perhaps it will work out- I hope it does because it's dark and serious and George gets in a real fix- why should the SG1 team have all the fun? __(- :_


	15. Chapter 15 Ping!

_AN: The last chapter...I hope you've enjoyed it. I appreciate everyone's comments and reviews- thanks very much!_

* * *

Chapter 15

Barely able to see in the darkened room, Major General George Hammond slowly eased himself down onto the king-sized bed, which dipped and creaked slightly under his weight. Carefully, he removed one shoe then another, trying not to make any sudden moves. In the middle of the bed, Kathryn stirred under the thick comforter, and he froze. Her breathing became regular and he moved again, holding his black shoes by their laces to lower them gently to the carpeted floor before letting go.

Slipping his watch off his right arm, he placed it on his bedside table, beside the clock that glowed 1:27am in blue. He had missed another dinner, another celebration that he swore he would be home for…yet again. Downstairs, the flowers were still sitting on the table, and the best china and silver were ready to be put back in the cabinet.

Why she put up with him and his awful hours and broken promises, he didn't know, but he was thankful she did. He couldn't imagine living without her and the boys. Since their marriage a year ago, he felt as if he had thrown off a heavy shroud of loneliness and worry. Not that his command did not provide troubles to keep him busy. It surely did. It was just that now, coming home made it all worthwhile.

He shifted his weight slowly, lifting one foot then the other, and stripped off his socks before tossing them toward his shoes. Behind him, Kathryn rolled over. Again, he waited. When she settled, he undid his tie and belt.

A lesser woman- any _normal_ woman- would have had his head over the number cancelled plans and cold dinners he'd caused.

_What had he ever done to deserve such an angel?_

Fingering his top button, he stopped when he felt a hand touch his back then slide up across his shoulder. He sighed and twisted around to face her.

"Kathryn, I…Darlin', I'm so sorry." In the dim light, he could see her as she sat up to kneel on the bed in front of him. "I know I gave my word I'd be home in time, but…"

There were no words of apology he had not already said several times before, and sohe fell silent.

She leaned forward and he felt her hands touch the epaulets holding the stars of his rank then follow them to his collarbone, to his collar, and then to his throat.

_Ping! Ping!_

Two buttons flew across the bed, hitting the wall.

"Darlin'?" he asked hesitantly.

Her hands slid lower and pressed against his chest before she grabbed two handfuls of his blue shirt.

_Ping! Ping! Ping!_

_Ping!_

"Sweetheart, are you angry?"

Her hands splayed across his chest and she lightly raked her nails down low, across his belly.

He let out his breath, half groaning- and suddenly found himself flat on his back, his wife leaning over him.

His white, V-neck regulation t-shirt sailed across the room; his pants dropped to the floor, and were quickly followed by his shorts.

_Nope, she wasn't mad! _

George Hammond wrapped his arms around his wife and held her tight,as if he'd never let go, his sigh of relief silenced by her kiss.


End file.
